Der Erlkönig
by gravity01
Summary: It is simple, really. Something was stolen from Erik. He wants it back. And he will stop at nothing until he gets it. EC. Eventually Modern.
1. Part One Erik

I thought I'd try something completely different and write something with a more supernatural twist to it. This story is inspired by _The Erlking, _a poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe.

* * *

**Erik**

My memory of the events of my early life is… troublingly clear. As much as I have tried to forget--occupying my mind with music and science--the memory comes flooding back every time I am unlucky enough to catch a glimpse of my reflection.

I do not know what I looked like… _before_. My father found mirrors sinful, as they encourage vanity. It is one of the few things I remember about my parents. I remember that my mother smelled of apples and… was it mint? Maybe I don't remember as well as I thought.

The point is, the first sight of my reflection has become one of my most horrific memories.

I should never have ventured out into the forest. I had been rather ill for the past week and only just had the strength to leave my bed. My mother warned me to stay inside, worried the cold winter air my exasperate my struggling lungs and bring the fever back.

But, like any young boy, I was restless from my confinement and prone to boredom. It didn't take much time before I'd had enough of my dull little house and made my daring escape.

My life's greatest mistake.

Once I took that first step into the forest, I was ruined. There was a great, swirling of leaves and mist that--oh, how do I explain it?--_called_ to me. It drew me further and further in until my house was long out of sight. I came out of my trance to find myself totally and irrevocably lost.

I was a small boy, lost and terrified. The hopelessness I felt then! I began to cry.

And that's when I saw _him_.

The swirling leaves separated from the mist and formed themselves into the shape of a man. He was large and exuded power. He had golden eyes, which shimmered and glowed. The sight sounds more frightening than it was. He was smiling at me. Somehow… don't ask me why… but that made all the difference.

"Do not cry, young child," he crooned softly, "There is no reason to be afraid."

"W-who are you?" I asked. I admit that my curiosity was getting the best of me. I have always been something of a skeptic when it comes to… well _anything_, really… and the forest-man's sudden appearance made me frown, questioning my own faculties. But, at least my tears had stopped.

"I am the King of this place."

"The forest?" I asked, stupidly. When one discovers a man, forming from nothing before their very eyes, it tends to impair one's critical thinking skills. Besides, I was not aware that the forest needed a king. Nobody lived there… who would he rule?

He smiled indulgently and nodded.

"Why have I never seen you before?"

"There has never been a need."

"And there is now?"

Again he nodded. I had a brief fit of coughing and his eyes took on a sort of glow... a flash of red that disappeared so quickly I questioned whether it had ever been there.

"Why?" I asked.

"I have a proposition for you."

I did not like the sound of that. His voice was gentle and his eyes were… mostly sincere. But, I had this feeling in the pit of my stomach that something was not right. It is how I imagine a rabbit feels when there is a wolf hidden nearby.

"What do you want?"

"Come with me."

"Pardon?"

"Come with me, into the forest. I have a palace all prepared for you. It is a glorious place, with more toys and sweets than you can imagine. Come with me and play games until long after the sun has set."

I scowled a bit. Toys and sweets never held much appeal for me. My parents used to joke that I was too adult for my own good. True, I required almost constant entertainment, but I would rather amuse myself with learning and drawing and nature... not silly, childish play.

The man seemed to realize his misjudgment and changed his angle.

"There are many things, in the forest, that you have never witnessed. If you come with me, I will show you the parts of the forest that cannot be seen with mortal eyes."

"When will I be able to go home?"

He didn't answer; only smiled. For a long time, we just stood there and stared at each other. I was confused, and still very frightened, and the man seemed entirely too… cunning… for my comfort. After a time, I nervously tried to back up.

I managed to move away a few steps but, as I turned to run away, I suddenly felt that unseen force compelling me back to him.

"Please, sir! Let me leave. I think my mother is calling me!" In my growing panic, my lungs rebelled and I launched into another coughing fit. "I… am… not well, sir. I must go back home. My mother will be very cross if I am not in bed soon."

"Come to me, my beloved," he called, extending his hand. I winced at the endearment. It was all too possessive and… falsely affectionate. "If you follow me to my palace, I promise you will never be ill again."

"No! Leave me be! I want my mother!"

Irritation crossed the man's face before he donned a strained smile.

"Where I come from, you will never miss your mother again. You must meet my daughters, beloved, you will adore them. They will dance and sing and hold you until you are fast asleep."

The promise sounded rather tempting. My parents were good people, I believe, and they loved me. But did not have the time to give me that type of attention. Embraces were few and treasured.

"It is cold outside, have you noticed?"

Of course I'd noticed. It was nearly freezing. That was why Mother had demanded that I stay inside… not that it was much warmer in the house. Father's business was struggling and firewood was scarce.

"Your family is very poor, no?"

"How would you know that?" And why did I have this feeling that he was looking into my mind?

"You do not have the money to heat your house. You are cold all of the time… and hungry. Come with me and you will never feel those things again. Tonight you will rest in the arms of my daughter. She will keep you warm as she rocks you to sleep. Oh yes, I know which daughter is for you! She will remain by your side and love you forever."

Something came over me. I felt like he was taking information straight out of my soul and using it to tempt me.

"Which daughter?" I asked, eagerly. "What does she look like?"

There was a tingling in the front of my head and I felt someone sifting through my mind as you would a deck of cards. Snippets of memories and forgotten dreams floated through my mind until…

Another flash of red came across the forest-man's eyes as he gave the most wicked smile I had ever seen.

"My beloved," he smiled, ignoring my flinch, "she is the most beautiful of them all. I could tell you… but, perhaps it would be better if I _showed _you."

He took some of the fog that surrounded him and formed it into a ball in the palm of his hand. He floated the ball in front of my face and I watched, enraptured, as it transformed into the image of a young lady. She had silvery blond hair and eyes of the clearest blue I had ever seen.

I recognized that face. I had dreamt of her more than once.

We had one book in the house, besides our worn family Bible, and it was a book of children's stories and fairy tales.

Only my father could read, as far as they knew. I had taught myself years earlier, the way I taught myself most things--through sheer strength and awkwardness. I am not certain why I did not want my parents to know this. Perhaps they thought I was strange enough, and I did not want to scare them with sudden knowledge.

But that is irrelevant. The point is that I read those stories again and again until they became part of my very fabric. Then they morphed and changed in my overactive imagination until I had a clear mental image of every setting and character imaginable.

And when an angel appeared in a story, it was _her _face I saw.

She was my angel. That girl with the pale blond hair. My mouth went dry as I gazed at the vision.

I hadn't given it much thought at the time, but upon further reflection, I remembered how my hands seemed to be growing ever colder and my chest was becoming heavy.

But, strangely enough, my cough had disappeared.

"You… you will take me to her?" I breathed, not bothering to look at the man.

"Of course," replied the king. His voice was too triumphant, which should have been a warning to me. But I was too mesmerized by the misty image in front of me to care about anything else.

He reached out with skeletal hands and gripped my shoulders. I did not give the slightest murmur of protest as he lifted me up and carried me away.

The rest is… something of a blur. It is as if I fell into a deep sleep. It is possible… unsettling as it is to think about… that I actually _died _then, in his arms. There really is no logical explanation for anything that happened from that moment on.

I have learned never to dismiss something simply because it does not seem plausible.


	2. Chapter 2

When I woke, I was on the ground, resting on a bed made of moss. My eyes cracked open and I was greeted by a… well, I suppose the word I would have used at the time would be… a _warm _lady. She was pretty--I soon found that everyone there was--but it was the welcome in her eyes that attracted me.

"Where is she?" I asked. This lady seemed friendly enough, but I wanted my angel.

"She?"

I imagine my irritation was evident on my face. The angel, the king's daughter, should have been there… he'd promised! And here, this lady was acting like she did not know what I was speaking of!

I struggled to sit up; I wasn't in pain… just disoriented. "Where am I?" I asked, trying to get my bearings.

The warm lady smiled and giggled a bit while helping me up. "Why, the Great Palace, of course! Where else?"

The Palace was not really a palace in the traditional sense. There were no real buildings, you see. It was more like a garden of sorts, covered in flowers, with heavy-leaved trees as protection from the elements. There were children everywhere, singing happily and playing all sorts of games I had never heard of. Sprinkled among them there was the occasional hunter or woodsman, roasting meats over small fires or fawning dreamily over graceful ladies who, for all their exquisite beauty, did not look entirely _human_.

Come to think of it… none of the people in the Palace looked quite right. There was a sheen to them that made them slightly… well… translucent.

Maybe there was something wrong with my eyes? I examined my own hands and clothes. No, it would seem that whatever magic that had affected these people had yet to touch me.

"What is your name, child?" the warm lady asked. I found myself smiling, despite my situation.

"Erik," I told her.

She looked shocked and slightly suspicious of my response. The expression was short lived, however, and her smile brightened and she made a beckoning gesture. "Sisters, sisters!" she called, "Come and meet Erik!"

The next thing I knew, I was surrounded by more pretty ladies. I imagine now that those many woodsmen must have been very jealous to see me with the undivided attention of the forest-ladies, considering how long they'd been doggedly following them without so much as a glance of encouragement. Ha ha… serves them right, I suppose, for allowing themselves to fall under the spell…

Wait. I am getting ahead of myself.

Right then. So I was standing, now, rather overwhelmed and struggling to put the image of my angel aside for five minutes while I determined exactly what was happening to me.

"I do not mean to be disrespectful, ladies but… I wish to meet the man who brought me here. Do you know him?"

They all started to giggle.

"He wants to know if we know him!" a girl cried gleefully. "Boy… do you not know of whom you speak?"

"Er… just that he was a strange man… a king of some sort."

"Don't let _him _here you say that!" she laughed. "That _strange man _is not just any king. He is the _Erlking_."

"The what?" I asked, doubting my hearing. I had heard the stories, of course--what child hadn't?--about a creature who lived in the woods, luring unsuspecting trespassers to their deaths. But there wasn't any truth to it; it was just a story that parents told to keep their children from straying into the forest. I never believed it.

Hmm… in retrospect, that may have been the problem.

"The Erlking, silly! Our father."

"That can't be true. The Erlking is a myth!"

They looked around nervously. "Don't let him hear you say _that _either…" someone warned.

That is when one of the girls emerged from the group and took my hand.

"Stop frightening him, sisters," she chided, "Come child… come and dance with me!"

I dumbly followed the lady. She was the most beautiful of the sisters--with long, black hair and expressive eyes of a color I could not describe--and I felt the strangest little tug in my chest, urging me to follow her.

She took me to a clearing where the other children were playing. She led them in a lively dance that encouraged the gathering spectators to join in.

I could not bring myself to dance, though. I merely stared.

If I was several years older, I suspect her charisma might have elicited a different reaction. But I was far too young for _those _sort of thoughts. As it was, I found myself drawn by nothing more than strong curiosity.

I do not know how much time passed as I stared at the dancers, but at some point I felt a soft hand on my shoulder. I recognized her as the warm lady from before, and I could not help but smile in spite of myself.

"What is wrong, child… er… _Erik_?" she inquired. I wondered why she had such a problem with my name. "Why are you not dancing with the others?"

"I apologize. I just… I do not feel much like dancing." As entrancing as everything was, I could not get my mind off of the angel that the Erlking had promised me.

"Would you mind," I asked, "directing me to your father? He and I have some business to settle."

"Such a little gentleman you are! But look…" she said, pointing off into the distance, "He comes this way even as we speak."

As politely as I could, I shrugged the warm lady off and approached the imposing man. He grinned as he saw me and moved forward to cup my cheek with his icy palm. I took a step backward and swallowed hard. The man frightened me like no other could. But… he had something of mine and I was not to be deterred.

"Sweet boy," he said, "how happy I am to see you again. Tell me, how do you like your new home? Is everything to your liking? I see that you have already met my daughters."

"Yes, about that… I was hoping to meet your other daughter--the one you showed me earlier. I did not see her amidst the others."

His smile faltered, but only for a second.

"Of course, my love. I would be happy to. But first… let us rejoin the others. There is another I would like you to meet. She has the most beautiful voice you have ever imagined. Perhaps she will sing for us while the dancers rest their feet."

"But after?"

"Of course."

"You will not forget your promise?"

"Never."

And that is how I came to know yet another one of the Erlking's daughters. I did not have a name to call her by, but I have always thought of her as the siren, for that is what she was--or, would be, if she had lived near the ocean instead of the forest.

The woman had a voice like no other. While the dancer had attracted crowds with her graceful movements, the siren drew even more with the song that she sung.

As with the dancer, I was not entirely immune to her charms… and yet I seemed to be able to resist them, unlike the others, who were lying on the grass, eyes closed as they listened to the music in a drunken haze.

"She is lovely, isn't she?" The Erlking whispered in my ear. Too close.

"Quite," I answered succinctly, "But she is not the one that you---"

He shushed me. "Shh, my child. There is plenty of time for that. For now, just relax and listen."

"But I don't want---"

"HUSH!" he said again, not nearly as gentle. His gold eyes flashing red, just as they had when he heard me coughing. I noticed that happening from time to time, during my stay at the palace--his eyes would turn red with intense emotion, be it pleasure or wrath.

"I said _later_! You will be quiet and still and listen to the singing and I will hear no more talk of promises tonight! Do you understand?"

"Y-yes sir."

"There's a good boy."

I think the music was meant to hypnotize me--to make me forget myself. But, instead, my mind raced. The Erlking had done absolutely nothing to reassure me. And I still hadn't met my angel!

"Why isn't it working?" I heard an angry voice whispering. There was a copse of trees nearby and I heard arguing coming from it.

I looked around to see if anyone was watching--though I needn't have bothered--before sneaking off to listen closer.

"Don't pout, sister."

"How can I not? I danced and… and he didn't even care! Others follow my dancing into death and beyond. You know this… I have lured more men into the forest than anyone. And… _that boy_… he just blinked at me like he didn't care."

"_That boy_ is no ordinary child. Haven't you noticed his eyes? He is the---"

"I don't care who he is. I hate him!"

"Shh! Be quiet! Someone is coming."

I ducked behind a tree as two of the Erlking's daughters emerged. I recognized the dancer as one of them and noticed that her cheeks were flushed and she looked rather indignant.

What was going on? Were they talking about me? I had a feeling they must be… I was the only one who had yet to succumb to the palace's charms.


	3. Chapter 3

**Erik**

It is probably of no surprise that the warm lady took an instant liking to me. Frankly, I could not imagine her not liking anybody. That seemed to be her purpose--being kind to everyone, taking care of the children--which was important as the Erlking seemed to take a special delight in stealing sick and injured children from the world of the living.

If I can possibly explain it--this place was not an afterlife. The Erlking snatched up innocent children on their way to Heaven and brought him… here… instead. Therefore, while not _alive _in the traditional sense, they were not the eternally joyous beings clothed in light that you might expect.

Actually, in many ways, they were just regular children. They played and laughed, they argued, they skinned their knees, they cried. They never cried for their mothers, though. Most of them forgot their parents over time. The forest became their family and the warm lady was more than happy to kiss away tears and chase away nightmares.

For the woodsmen, it was much the same. In the morning they would go out hunting, bringing back quarry that did not exist and spending the rest of the day roasting it over the ever present campfires. They also spent much time in the futile attempt to woo the ladies who had been the ones to trap them here in the first place.

But, as normal as everything seemed… there were some startling differences.

By now you must have noticed that I have not given names to any of the individuals I have described thus far. The reason for that is rather simple: they had no names of their own.

Well, perhaps I should rephrase that. The Erlking's daughters had no names. I suspect the other inhabitants--the children and the woodsmen--had names at some point, but had since forgotten them. Death has a funny way of doing that to a person--but I'll get to that later.

The only reason I mention it is because that small detail is what I used to track my sanity during my stay at that place. Everything else could be faked--the fact that I had yet to develop the transparency of the others… the fact that I continued to grow, unlike the other children who perpetually stayed the same age. All these things could be illusions--a trick of the eyes or something. But every night, as I went to bed, I would whisper to myself, 'I am Erik'.

I was determined never to forget.

You see, it had witnessed something indescribably frightening. One day I saw the shadow of the Erlking as he entered the palace, holding the limp form of a small boy. The child could not have been more than four… but I recognized him from the town. He had the same freckles and flaming red hair as his older brothers.

"Karl!" I called, "Little Karl… it is me, Erik!"

The boy lifted his head and flickered large, curious eyes between me and the Erlking, who was setting him on his feet.

"Who is Karl?" he asked the man.

The Erlking smiled indulgently and patted the little boy's head. "No one of consequence, child. Now go and play."

With a big smile of and squeal utter delight, Little Karl ran off to join throng of contentedly nameless children.

I was… horrified. How could someone so quickly forget their individuality? And the Erlking's casual remark: _No one of consequence._

My stomach turned.

And there was no hiding it, either. My mind, to the Erlking, was like an open book. I felt a familiar tingling head and knew he was sifting through my thoughts again.

"My beautiful boy," he murmured, carding spidery fingers through my hair.

"Erik," I corrected, stepping back from him. "My name is Erik."

For each step back, he took another step forward--like a twisted mockery of the daughters' dances that I had so purposely ignored.

He refused to be deterred. When he brought his hands up again and they skimmed across my face--fingers gliding over my cheeks, my nose (oh, to have a nose again!), my eyelids--as if memorizing the planes of my skin.

"Why do you continue to resist?" he wondered. "I would give you everything…"

But I did not want _everything _I wanted _one _thing--or rather, person.

"I. Want. My. Angel." I snarled through gritted teeth.

"This has become quite an obsession. Hasn't it, beloved?"

My head felt like it was on fire. I struggled to keep myself in check; childish tantrums would get me nowhere. "Nonsense. I simply want what belongs to me. You shall have my loyalty then, and not a moment before."

I wondered if I had gone too far; his eyes were glowing, but the hand on my face was still gentle.

"So grown up… like a little, miniature adult. How very… enchanting." I tried to step back again, but he would not let me. "However," he said impassively, "you lack discipline. No, I think you shall have to wait a little longer."

"Why you lying--"

"Watch your tongue, _boy_!"

"Erik."

"Remember who you are speaking to. This is _my _kingdom and _I _am the ruler here. You would do well not to forget yourself."

"That's rather the point now, isn't it?"

I must have amused him, for he broke out into a wide grin.

"Clever thing. Very well… how about a compromise, hmm? Would you like to look at your angel, like you did when we first met?"

"Yes! I would like that very much, sir."

He smirked at my eagerness and instant forgiveness, but he did not hesitate to draw up another ball of mist and conjure her image. It was moving his time, and I could see her quietly doing her chores; she was clothed in a white and had a soft smile on her face as she went about folding linens.

Once again, I found myself unable to tear my eyes off of it.

Perhaps 'unable' was the wrong word… 'unwilling' is more accurate. I knew the ball would dissipate in my hand, but until then, I was not going to lose even a glimpse. Her image would be burned into my mind, renewing my willingness to obey. Sometimes I wonder how I could have been so utterly stupid. The Erlking did nothing out of simple kindness.

Vaguely, I heard a voice speaking. "Behave yourself, beloved, and we will speak again soon."

He bent and kissed my forehead before disappearing into the mist and leaves.

--

While I was not surprised by the warm lady's fondness for me, I was surprised to find myself drawing closer and closer to the siren.

Naturally, she was a little chagrined at first when I reacted so unresponsive to her music. But, before long, she seemed to see the hidden blessing in that.

You see, every time a human heard her voice, they fell into a sort of drunken haze. I suppose this would not have been overly upsetting save for the fact that she had no control over it. To use a rather modern expression--she could not turn it on and off.

Imagine what a lonely existence that must have been! Every time she opened her mouth, she hypnotized every mortal being within earshot. Holding a conversation tended to be… problematic… at best.

She needed a hobby. So, to stave off the inevitable boredom, she became something of a collector. Whenever she sought out a traveler and felt moved to bring them into the fold, she often removed something from their pack or their horse. Centuries later, she had acquired quite an assortment of oddities, which she spent many lazy hours studying and playing with.

Not that she knew what most of it was.

"And this is… a… shredded box!"

"Ah… actually it is a _book_."

"Book?"

"Yes… it is a… well… those markings on the pages tell stories. Would you like me to read them to you?"

"Stories? I would love that, Erik." I had to smile. She was the only person who did not stumble over my name.

I reached to take the book from her when my hand brushed across a small, wooden flute. I picked it up with a cry of joy. I knew what these were! I put the flute up to my lips and blew a few notes.

The siren's face brightened as she slowly realized the implications of her new discovery. The one human who could still think clearly after hearing her voice… had the same love of music that she did.

And so that is how the siren and I became friends. I would play for her while she sang, and then we would seek out a quiet place and I would read aloud.

Once the sun set, I would leave her and join the other children, huddled up sleepily on the soft grass beside the warm lady.

The other daughters may have despised me… but in the warm lady and the siren I had found myself a mother and a sister. And when I finally met my angel, I would have found the perfect playmate.

As half-lives go… it was not entirely unpleasant.

But there was more to it than that. When we--the siren and I--played music together… how do I describe it, really? To have such power over other human beings… to know that, with a simple command, they would hurtle themselves off a cliff or take a stroll through burning embers.

That kind of power is… heady. Virtually irresistible.

Which was exactly was _he _was counting on.

--

"What are you thinking about, Erik?" the siren asked. I had been humming to myself while methodically destroying blades of grass. Destroying things helps me think.

"How long have I been here?"

"What do you mean?" Time had no meaning in the palace. And, for a lady who had lived there her whole life… well, it was a rather difficult concept to explain. So I didn't bother.

"Never mind. What I mean to say is… I have gotten much bigger, and everyone else has stayed the same. When we first met, I barely came up to your belly. But now… I am almost as tall as you are!" I was not as tall as she was. Not nearly. But a child sees these things differently. Besides, that's not really the point.

"The point is… I believe there is something very peculiar about this place."

"Really? Do you believe so?" she asked, rather dreamily. I wondered if she was even listening to me.

"And there is another thing…"

"Oh?"

"By now I believe I have met nearly everyone who lives here… all of the children and all of your sisters."

"That is… likely."

"But… why haven't I seen _her _yet? Every day I look for my angel and yet she eludes me."

"On and on about your angel… do you think of nothing else?"

"No." I answered, absolutely serious. I was in love, even then. Not in the typical, boyish way (honestly, can you imagine me pulling anyone's pigtails?), but in the wondrous way that one gazes at the stars.

"What has been happening?" I asked. "You must know. Why is _he _hiding her from me?"

The siren looked awkward; her eyes shifted about and she wrung her soft dress into knots in her hands. "Father… _the king_… he has asked us not to speak of such things to you."

"But _why_? What can be gained by this?" I was trying very hard not to shout. Why did everyone have to play games with me? What was the point of this grand conspiracy?

"You are not the same as the others, Erik. I know you've noticed… you said so just moments ago."

"So?"

"The king is… invested… in you. You are special."

I scoffed. "The king can hang. I hate him."

"Do you hate yourself, then?"

I started at the unexpected question. "What are you getting at?"

"I mean that the two of you are not as different as you would like to think."

"I am _nothing like him._"

"You have the same eyes, you know. He has searched for you for centuries."

This conversation was taking the most confusing turn. I did not like it. "If I am so very important, then why hide the only thing that I require of him?"

"Why, indeed?" I heard a rumbling voice say. I turned to see the Erlking, standing behind me with a reproachful look on his face.

The siren looked horrified. "F-father… I only---"

"Silence! I will deal with you later."

Then he clapped his hand down on my shoulder. I remember suddenly being filled with this sense of… complete, unadulterated… terror.

To me, he said, "You will follow me now. I have a task for you." I did not dare disobey him. The mystery of my missing angel would have to wait a few minutes.

But, before I followed him into the forest, I remembered what the siren had told me about having _his_ eyes. For some reason, that bothered me a great deal. I wrenched myself out of his grasp turned back.

"Do my eyes turn red," I asked her. I just had to know.

"N-no…" she replied, cautiously. _Not yet,_ was her unspoken amendment.


	4. Chapter 4

**Erik  
**

"Where are we going, sir?" I asked, trying to keep the nervousness out of my voice. A task? So far, the only thing I had been encouraged to do was… well… give in. Come to accept my new home and my new life.

This was the first time he specifically commanded me to _do _something… and that unnerved me a bit.

"We are going back to the forest," he answered.

"But… don't we live in the forest?"

"I mean the mortal's forest. Hurry up, boy. I am not going to wait forever."

"Wait, sir!" I said, grabbing his shirtsleeve. He turned, surprised that I had touched him. "I have to know. Is it true? Am I so different from the others?"

"It was not by chance that I found you into the woods. That is all you need to know."

"Where is my angel?"

"Enough! Do you think yourself so great that you can question me at every turn? I have kept my daughter from you for a reason. You are not yet worthy of her."

We continued walking for awhile in silence. It was neither a comfortable nor an awkward silence, in case you were wondering. It just… was.

Before too long, we came across a threshold of sorts--like a wall of energy separating our perfect sanctuary with the rest of the world. Part of me was shocked to see snow on the other side. I had forgotten how cold it could be in the winter.

Briefly I tried to calculate how long I had been away. It was winter when I left… but I was much taller now. Had I been gone a full year?

"Sir… what are we doing here?"

He gave me a long look. "You are here to learn a lesson."

I gulped. "Am I in trouble?"

"No!" he exclaimed. The stern look on his face softened considerably. "No, child… not in trouble. I have just decided that you are old enough to take on more responsibility."

"But none of the other children--"

"We have established that you are not like the other children. You are better than all of them. Soon everybody will know it, and they will bow to you with the same reverence as they do to me."

My mind and my stomach bickered for a second. The kind of power that the Erlking wielded was appealing on its own. But after the fleeting taste of such control, given to me by the siren… it made what the Erlking was offering rather difficult to resist.

On the other hand, everything about the man had a rather sinister undertone to it, which made me wary.

He put a guiding hand on my neck and we stepped through the barrier.

Instinctively I went to wrap my arms around myself to keep out the chill--but I suddenly found that I was impervious to the cold.

That, by the way, is a strange sensation. It looked freezing, I felt the snow that was falling on my skin… every one of my senses was telling me to be cold. And yet, it was as if my mind just shrugged and decided it wasn't worth dealing with. I was completely comfortable.

The couple that we found in the snow, however, looked far from comfortable.

"This is what I wanted to show you, beloved. Come and see."

There was a man and a boy. The man was chopping at branches and whatnot--gathering firewood, I assume--while the boy hopped and shivered, trying to keep his blood warm.

"Not too much longer, Leif," the man said. Leif… I smiled. I knew that boy… Little Karl's older brother. He was my age, if I remember correctly.

"But it's cold, Father. I do not know how much longer I can stand it."

"Well, if you spent a little more time helping and a little less time complaining, we would be home much quicker. I hear your mother has a stew on at the house."

"Yes, Father."

The Erlking was watching the scene with a predatory look on his face. The hand on the back of my neck had not moved and his thumb was making small circles on the skin there. The fact that I was soothed by the gesture made me even more nervous.

"Why are we watching this, sir?" I asked.

"I found them a few hours ago at the forest's edge and drew them here. I assure you, they are quite lost--though I doubt they know it yet."

"What does that have to do with me?"

"We are taking that boy home with us. I would have brought him myself, but thought better of it. You see… you are so very special to me and I love you so very much. Therefore I have decided that you should be the one to deliver him to me. Call it a… training exercise."

I swallowed. I wasn't adamantly against it, for some reason. But--call it a gut feeling--it just felt wrong.

"Sir… I don't know if I can do this."

I expected him to be angry, but his thumb resumed its little circles on my neck, working its way up to the base of my skull until I shut my eyes and leaned in to the hypnotic feeling of it.

"Of course you can. I believe in you. In fact, if you can do this, I believe you shall finally earn your reward. Would you like that, child? To finally meet my daughter--the angel you've been asking about?"

My eyes popped open. Yes, that was exactly what I wanted! More than anything else in the world. My angel could finally be mine if only I could…

"Hello," I heard a curious voice say, "where did you come from?"

Frantically I looked back between the Erlking and the boy in front of me. The king gave me a nod, urging me on.

"I… I was in the woods--just like you--and I heard your voice. Would you like to be my friend?"

"I suppose so," he answered. "My name is Leif. Who are you?"

"I am… I… am…" I wanted to tell him my name, but I had this inner feeling that to do so was completely forbidden.

Luckily, I was saved from answering when I heard the father's voice speak up. "Boy," he said, "who are you talking to?"

I looked back at the Erlking. I could feel the blood pounding through my veins as I panicked. What was I supposed to do?

"He cannot hear us," he reassured me. "We will only take the boy. The man is of no consequence."

_No one of consequence, child_. The Erlking's statement to Little Karl came rushing back to me.

Leif answered his father. "There is another boy here, Father. I was just speaking to him."

"Are you mad?" he responded, "There is no boy here. You must be hearing the wind."

"No, I am here Leif," I insisted. "I'm sure he is just to busy to hear me over the chopping wood. I was wondering if you would like to come and play with me?"

"I don't know…" he said hesitantly, "I am supposed to be helping Father with the firewood." Just then he gave an almost violent shiver. His clothing was much too thin and his lips had the faintest tinge of blue.

I tried to reason with him. "It is too cold to chop wood. What if you break into a sweat? What then? Would you freeze to death?"

At the mention of death he stepped back a bit. I turned to look the Erlking, who smiled in encouragement.

"You are doing well," he said. "Do not give up."

The boy was talking to his father once more. "Father… it really is cold. Can we please leave now?"

"Ten more minutes."

I stepped forward to get the boy's attention once more. "My friend… come to my house. It is very warm there. The fire is always going and there are plenty of others to play with us."

"Really? Other children?"

"Yes, many children. And my… sisters… also. We could have so much fun together if you would follow me."

With each word, I felt sicker and sicker. I hated misleading him like this. But the king continued to whisper in my ear and I could not help but press on. I could get through this. _Just once_, I assured myself. Just once and I would have my angel and I would refuse any more tasks from _him_.

"Well, I suppose I could go for a little while," Leif conceded. "But I must ask my father."

"No. Don't bother him while he is working. That would be… rude. Just come with me and he will… ah… find out later."

He took one step forward and the Erlking made a little cry of triumph.

"Well done, boy!" he said, "Now all you must do is reach out and touch him. You have won. Just grasp his arm or his shoulder and he will be ours."

I nodded shakily and lifted my hand. Suddenly I stopped. He trusting smile on his face was too much. His eyes gleamed in anticipation like Little Karl's had.

_No one of consequence. _The words would not stop echoing through my head. This boy was not important. One small move on my part and he would cease to be Leif. He would be one of the nameless boys and girls in the Erlking's care.

_No one of consequence._

But that was not true… just yet. For the next few seconds, he _was _important. He had parents and a home and a life. He _meant _something.

He was my age.

For the first time since the Erlking had taken me, I thought of my mother. My mother, who smelled of apples and mint and who must have cried when I never returned to her. How long did they search the forest for me?

Could I do that to Leif's mother? She had already lost one son. Could I take another from her?

"I… I can't . I can't do this."

"Breath. Just breath, my child. You can. It will be so easy. Just reach your hand out. One touch. You want your angel don't you?"

I did. I wanted her more than anything. I would do anything for her. Even this.

"Yes…" I whispered.

"Do it. Prove yourself worthy of my favorite daughter."

With trembling fingers, I reached for the boy. Leif. For two more seconds, he was Leif.

And then I did it. With my eyes pressed tightly shut, I laid my hand on his shoulder. And then…

Nothing.

My eyes opened and I saw him shimmer a bit before becoming solid again. He wavered on his feet for a few seconds before falling to the ground. The Erlking's eyes were shining a furious red.

"Leif!" cried the father. "Are you hurt? My boy… you do not look well. You are so pale. Come, let's get you home."

My chest heaved as I saw the father wrapping his own cloak around the boy and helping him to his feet.

"Try again!" the king hissed. "If you want your angel, you will try again!"

I tried. I really did. I took one step toward the little family and met Leif's curious gaze.

"The town is that way!" I blurted out.

And then I ran.

--

I do not know how long I ran. But I soon found myself sobbing in the warm lady's arms with the siren standing sympathetically to the side.

"I couldn't do it… I could… not… I failed. I have failed and now I have ruined everything."

She simply continued to murmur platitudes while she rubbed my back. "Shh, hush now, child. You are a good boy. No not cry. Sweet boy."

Eventually, her soothing began to take effect and I was able to sit up and relay the story of the task her father had given me.

"I tried. But… it did not work. Why didn't it work?"

"Trying isn't enough," she answered. "You have to _mean _it."

"What are you saying? Of course I meant it!"

"Think hard. Did you really want to do it?"

I paused and thought. No, I did not want to steal that boy. But… I did not want to lose my angel, either. Wasn't that enough?

The siren answered. "You are still whole, Erik. You are not cruel like the king. You have no cracks in your heart for the darkness to take hold."

I snorted. "Cruel? Like you have any room to talk. How many men have you lured in here?"

I was surprised to hear the warm lady laughing at that. "Oh, child," she sighed, "that is merely a game! By the time my sisters are finished with a man, he is practically _begging _to come here! It is fun, don't you see?" Then she sobered and shook her head a bit as she explained, "This is entirely different. It takes a certain kind of evil to destroy a child."

"What would your father think if he heard you saying these things of him," I asked cautiously. I don't know why, but I had become increasingly paranoid--always expecting a trap.

The warm lady just shook her head. "He knows what he is," she replied, "and makes no apologies. He is proud of his darkness. And he wants you to be just like him."

"Me? But why?"

"Erik," the siren said gently, "the king sees something in you. You are special. Your eyes are gold, just like his own, and he senses greatness in you. He does not need another little boy to play about the palace. He wants a prince… a second in command. He wants you as his heir."

And that was when the dancer stepped into view. I stifled a groan. This was the last thing I needed.

"And some prince you turned out to be!" she taunted, "You failed at the only thing he ever asked of you. You are not good and pure… you are _weak. _Completely do you think he has to hang your angel in front of you like a carrot? You failed for the simple reason that you are incompetent. I wonder what my father sees in you."

"That is enough, my daughter." The Erlking commanded. Then, giving me a thoughtful look, he took my elbow and pulled me away from the warm lady. "But," he said, firmly grasping my arm, "perhaps she has a point. Perhaps you have been coddled too much here. I believe I shall oversee your care from now on."

And that was that. From that moment on, I spent most of my time with the Erlking. No longer did I spend lazy afternoons with the siren. If I played music, I would play for _him _alone. And no longer did I spend the nights huddled between the other children. I slept beside him on the hill, overseeing the rest of the palace.

Like an apprentice, I followed his every activity. He taught me everything about the forest--how to identify certain trees and communicate with the animals. He taught me always to be commanding. To remain aloof and never show weakness. He taught me to expect obedience and never accept the word 'no'.

Strangely enough, he did not remain angry about my failed incident with Leif. Whenever I brought it up, he merely kissed my forehead and ruffled my hair and assured me that I would do better next time. It may sound twisted… but I believed him. What's worse… I think I _wanted _to do better next time.

But despite all this, I could not help the growing bitterness in my heart. My obedience was enforced through blackmail--he used my angel to keep me submissive. I resented him for it… but there was nothing I could do.

What's worse--I was changing… and I did not like it one bit.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: This story is turning out to be longer than I originally expected. But never fear--those who are waiting for some EC interaction to occur, I promise that it will be very soon.**

* * *

**Erik**

I cannot truly explain why I held onto the idea of my angel so tightly. It was not like a boy of my age to become so obsessed with a young lady. Perhaps if I had been five or six years older… but, no… it was rather abnormal at my age. But then… have I not defied normality in so many other ways?

My angel represented everything I had been… _before_. She was the image I had created from the stories I so loved. She was the sweet and gentle soul that passed through my head when my father helped me with my prayers at night. She was my innocence.

And she was also my hope. She represented everything good and pure that remained in this _new _home. When I felt discouraged and wanted to give up, it was _her _face I saw. She was my driving force. She belonged to me. In a world where nothing mattered and my choices were not my own, I could cling to her image and say, 'That belongs to me. When all else is stripped away, that hope is mine alone.'

My humanity had ebbed away, but my soul was intact because I had _her_.

After nearly a year under the Erlking's almost exclusive supervision, I was allowed freedom to explore the camp once again. As long as I did not leave the palace and I returned to his side each night, I was free to do as I pleased.

The siren and the warm lady were very glad to see me, and it was nice to see their friendly faces once again. Our relationship was different now--no longer was I the frightened child longing to be cuddled and affirmed. I was distant and controlled, even as I allowed them to hug me.

The siren giggled about how much I had grown and chattered on about the new song she wanted to teach me. Meanwhile, the warm lady held me at arms length and gave me a sad smile. My new skills had come with a price. She saw what the others did not--that the cheerfulness and optimism I had left with were pulverized and replaced with bitterness. That was all I had left--bitterness and cynicism.

As far as everyone else was concerned--I believe that the way I carried myself had an effect on the rest Erlking's daughters. They stopped trying to charm me and no longer seemed surprised by my easy rejection of their company.

Sometimes I wonder if they had truly stopped hating me entirely or just realized that respect was now required of them. I suppose, in the end, it did not matter. I was above them all. Those glorious, sprite like beings that had so awed me, were now inferior to a little boy. They were the king's cherished daughters and, with a word, I could cast them out of the palace or strip them of their power… leaving them to grow old die like a common mortal.

According to the Erlking, this was always the case. But, now that I acted the part, there was no denying it. The ladies fawned over me, begging my forgiveness for their initial mistreatment. I barely spared them a glance. The siren and the warm lady had earned my kindness--everybody else was of no consequence.

There was one, however, who continually piqued my interest. It was the dancer, and she amused me to no end.

Unlike her sisters, she made it clear that she still did not like me. And she wasn't overly subtle about it either, which is what I think entertained me so much. She would never call me names outright--that was forbidden--but she never missed a chance to glare at me or send trouble my way. In fact, I believe she must have actually sought me out on occasion, just because she hadn't had the opportunity to give me a dirty look recently.

I was becoming rather fond of her, actually, and I told her as much.

"We are _not _friends!" she snapped, stomping her tiny dancer's foot on the ground. The warm lady shook her head in disapproval and the siren smirked at me. I believe everyone else was terrified about whatever it is they thought I was about to do to their sister.

"I can accept that," I said easily, eliciting a united gasp from the onlookers and a dark scowl from my little dancer. "I just thought you ought to know that I like you."

There was something very _real _about the way that she continued to dislike me for no other reason than sheer stubbornness. I appreciated that.

I mention this only because my life was going to take another drastic turn, and she would play an integral part.

One afternoon, I was reading to the siren and a few of the children when I heard the loud crack indicating a storm was approaching. A few of the younger children screamed and the warm lady appeared almost instantly to hustle them over to a campfire where the rest of her brood had gathered. The perpetual springtime of the palace kept the rain from touching the ground, but the sound of thunder still managed to break through and scare the little ones.

I shrugged. There were worse things than thunder.

As if to prove my point, the Erlking chose that moment to put his hand on my arm.

"Come, boy," he said softly. "It is time."

Instantly I knew what he meant. Ever since that failed attempt at retrieving the boy from the forest last winter, the Erlking had been preparing me for my next chance.

Truth be told, I was looking forward to it. The Erlking held a strange power over me. I feared him… despised him. His affectionate words and possessive touches made me shudder. And yet… I wanted to please him.

He led me out into the forest where the thunderstorm was raging. He pointed his bony finger toward a hollowed tree, in which two girls were huddled and shivering.

"Which one?" I asked.

He smiled maliciously. "We shall take them both."

With a nod, I stepped forward and approached the children.

"Hello… are you lost?" I asked.

I was nearly surprised at how easy our conversation was. There was none of the hesitation… the emotion… as their had been with Leif. I thought of them merely as targets. I was merely a hunter, coaxing frightened little rabbits into my trap. They were not human.

The king whispered encouragements into my ears as the girls left the safety of the tree and reached out to my outstretched arms. I was so close.

Suddenly a bolt of lightning struck. I heard a snap, followed by a pained cry and the sound of a galloping horse.

The girls screamed in fright. "Mother! Father!" they cried, running away before I had a chance to call them back.

The Erlking growled. I sighed. "I am sorry, sir."

I could feel his irritation, but it was not directed at me. He kissed the top of my head. "Worry not, beloved," he said tersely, walking away with a silent command for me to follow.

A few minutes later, I was shocked to discover the cause of the noise. A traveler lay dead under the fallen limb of a tree, cut down by the lightening--his horse was long gone. Just yards away sat the weeping figure of the little dancer girl.

"Father," she moaned, "please help me! I have broken my ankle and cannot get up."

The Erlking looked at her coldly. The contempt in his yellow gaze disturbed me. This was his _daughter_…

I moved to help her, but the king's hand on my shoulder kept me back.

"Leave her," he said.

Her eyes went wide with fear and she began to weep harder. "But Father! If you do not help me I shall perish out her alone! Please do not leave me to die."

The Erlking gave her one last withering glare and walked away, never once looking back.

I, however, was not so unmoved by the woman's pitiful cries. I carefully knelt down beside her and examined her ankle.

"What are _you _still doing here?" she sneered. "Came to gloat, did you?"

"I did not know your kind could be injured."

"I would heal if I could get to the palace. But, out here…"

"Hold onto me. I am going to brace your ankle with these branches and then I am going to help you stand."

"But why? Why are you doing this?"

I shrugged. "Because, despite what everybody thinks… I am not _him_. I still have… that is to say… look, it is just the right thing to do--are you going to stand up or must I explain myself to you all day?" She nodded and we began our slow trek back to the palace.

"If you hate him so much… why do you follow him so faithfully?" she asked me.

"I must," I replied. "As long as he keeps my angel from me, I must stay on his good side."

"Are you so completely naïve?" she asked, "You obey him as long as you think he is withholding something from you? Has it not occurred to you that… well… does that not sound the slightest bit suspicious?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean to show you that he has absolutely no incentive to give you what you want."

"But he promised!"

"How do you know he was telling the truth?"

My jaw worked for a moment, but I had no words.

"Listen," she said patiently, "I cannot say any more than this… I am not allowed… but I think that you should put this angel business out of your mind. You will only find disappointment."

"Why are you telling me this?"

She shrugged. "Because it is the right thing to do. And I think I owed you."

The dancer's words continued to weigh on my mind long after we returned to the palace. What did she mean when she said that I would only find disappointment? I continued to press her about it whenever I saw her, but she dared not say much. She would, however, try to give me hints, and I knew she was walking a fine line between helping me and incurring the king's wrath.

Once she asked me to describe my angel to her. When I finished, she looked at me knowingly. "Think about it hard. Have you seen anyone here… _anyone _who could even begin to fit that description? Are any of the king's daughters as pale and blond as you have described?"

Her question shook me. No… all of the sisters bore at least _some _resemblance to each other in one way or another. But my angel was…well… it was if she was pulled _directly out of my mind_.

Another time she asked about the place where she was being kept. "Have you seen anything here that could begin to look like the room you describe? Even remotely?"

No I hadn't, and I had explored every last inch of the forest. There were no real enclosures. We slept in clusters outside. There were a few tents, but no doors--nobody here had anything to hide.

The dancer had effectively placed doubt in my mind; it was only a matter of time before sheer restlessness compelled me to seek out the king.

"Where is my angel?" I demanded.

"My beautiful boy," he started. I cut him off.

"No! No more sweet words. I demand you tell me what has become of her! Give me the truth."

His gaze turned shrewd. "There is only one way you can know the truth with absolute certainty. Are you prepared for that, boy?"

"What must I do?"

"The only way you can know my mind is if you are mine completely. You have been holding back. I can make you great, but you have yet to surrender everything."

"I will do whatever you wish. But these games must end now."

"I couldn't agree more."

What happened next came about so quickly that I am surprised I remember it so well.

First came that familiar tingling sensation in my head as he touched my mind. Then the tingling turned to a burning as I felt myself drawn into his own consciousness. His mind was dark and frightening… but I learned what I needed to know.

It was all a lie.

My angel never existed. He had pulled her image from my mind and used her to entice me into this half-life. I could sense his obsession with me from the beginning; if I had not come willingly, he would have taken me by force. There was no remorse over his lies--simply pleasure over his own cleverness.

When he withdrew from my mind I fell to the ground in agony. The pain I experienced was unlike anything I had ever known… or will ever know again. It was not only a physical pain… it was the all consuming, excruciating torture of my soul ripping in two. I screamed… but the voice did not sound like my own.

The pain stopped, and for the briefest of seconds I felt the numbing emptiness of having lost half of my very existence. But that did not last long. As soon as my screaming had ended, the Erlking lifted me up by the throat and dangled me above the ground.

"You are mine!" he hissed, face contorting with glee.

His grip on my neck was cutting of my air supply and I choked when I tried to inhale. But then _he _breathed into me. A black mist flowed from his mouth and forced its way into my lungs. My chest reached its capacity and, for a moment, I thought my lungs might explode. I grew dizzy and my vision faded.

But then it was over. The Erlking dropped me back on my feet, where I bent over and gasped for oxygen.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

"I feel… I feel…" I couldn't put it into words, really. I did not have the emptiness that I felt moments ago… but I was not sure if I liked what had taken its place.

Everything felt… darker. Instead of the simmering bitterness I had been harboring, my heart was filled with white-hot rage. My hope was gone, as was my innocence… all that was left was an all-consuming sense of _hatred_…

Towards _him_.

"I feel angry," I answered honestly. I wanted to kill him. My mind began to picture graphically violent plans to dismember him slowly.

"You are perfect," he whispered fondly.

--

I do not know just how long it took the Erlking to realize that his plan to poison me had not turned out quite as he anticipated.

Do not misunderstand--I had become completely corrupted, and acted the part. But instead of bonding me to him, as he had hoped, he had effectively destroyed any ties of loyalty I had left.

The Erlking had infused in me the few things he had been unable to teach me otherwise. Cruelty was a lesson I had been unwilling to learn… and now I found myself with it knitted to my very existence. Hatred, cruelty, malicious intent… those things could have been expelled, had the merely been learned behaviors. As it was, they were a part of me, and I could no more deny them than I could deny the need to drink or sleep or breathe.

--

My new favorite game was trolling the forest for trespassers. The Erlking would have been infinitely pleased, had my motives mirrored his own. As it was, my primary objective was to keep the Erlking and his daughters from accomplishing _their _primary objective.

I warned the trespassers. And I frightened them. I did everything I possibly could to keep them out of the clutches of the sprites and nymphs. I cared only for disturbing the king's plans. If it helped the mortals, so much the better. If not…

Well. That wasn't overly important.

Once there was a hunter who had followed a deer too far into the woods. I watched him for awhile as he tracked the animal. Suddenly he halted and tensed, and I sensed the voice of my dearest friend who had just become a temporary rival.

"Stop there, traveler," I commanded, blocking his path.

"W-who… who are you?"

"Currently your greatest ally. You do not belong here. You put yourself in danger. Turn back now."

"But… that song… it is so…" The man's eyes were glazing over as the siren's voice washed over him.

"Never mind that!" I snapped. "Listen to _my _voice. Turn back now."

For a moment he looked confused. "But I was here for a reason… what was it? Oh yes… I was following a deer. Yes, that's it… I must find…" Then he trailed off again.

I was getting frustrated. The siren had turned out to be more of a challenge than I anticipated. But still… I refused to lose. As long as I could help it, no new soul would pass through the palace.

"This is my last warning, traveler," I hissed. "Turn back now."

I spotted the siren smirking at me from behind a tree. For the briefest of moments, the hunter's eyes focused and I thought he had heeded my words… but, then her song grew in volume and intensity and I knew I had lost him.

But I would not lose.

I have vowed never to lose again.

I looked the siren in the eye and released a high-pitched whistle. I saw her eyes widen briefly when her voice was drowned out by the sound of howls. The hunter was disoriented for a moment but by then it was too late. A pack of wolves shot out of the brush and pounced.

I did not bother watching the gory scene. Instead I kept my eyes focused on the siren, observing her reaction as she watched the beasts rip her intended limb from limb.

After the screams and the growls died down, she looked at me with tear-filled eyes.

"Erik… you… you…"

"Killed him? Yes."

"But why?"

I vaguely understood that I was upsetting my best friend, but such attachments had lost their relevance. I refused to regret my actions. "He is dead… truly dead. He is free of these games of ours. His eternal resting place has been judged _as it was meant to be_. God has his soul now… or possibly the Devil. But the important thing is that _you _shall never touch it."

"My father will not be happy about this."

"Will you tell him, then? Would you be the one to tell your father that his beloved heir has abandoned his allegiance? I can only imagine his reply to such a messenger… and then, it would seem, you would be in danger from _both _of us."

She looked frightened, and rightfully so. But I soon found out that it was not my threat alone that shocked her.

"Erik… your eyes… they're all red!"

I smiled and shrugged. "Are they? I suppose it was to be expected. Never mind that. Go now, and tell your sisters that I will no longer tolerate their games."

With a sob and one last sorrowful glance at the hunter's half-devoured remains, she disappeared and returned to the palace.


	6. Chapter 6

**Erik**

The siren may not have sold me out to the king, but secrets never avoided him for long.

The palace inhabitants were dancing again, and I was sulking by the fire, when we were interrupted by a thunderous voice.

"Boy!" the Erlking roared, bringing an abrupt halt to all the festivities.

I rose and looked straight into his glowing eyes. "My name is Erik."

"What are you playing at?"

I stood rather arrogantly. "Whatever do you mean, sir? I am merely occupying my time, same as everybody else."

"Watch your tone, boy. Remember your place."

"Ah, yes… my place. Right beside you, correct? Your perfect little puppet. The lap dog you so painstakingly trained to---"

Suddenly I was cut off by a crippling vibration that shot down my spine and forced me to my knees. I would not cry out, but I managed a glare. I think. At least I tried. The humiliation of bowing before him, in plain view of all the others, was overwhelming.

"I said," he hissed, "Watch. Your. Tone."

Another twinge, this time through my shoulders, propelled me lower still, until my arms collapsed and my face--my lips--pressed against the Erlking's boot. If I think about it hard enough, I can still feel the silent tears streaking down my face as I listened to the gasps and snickers of my gathering audience.

Idiots.

As I lay there, disgraced and sprawled out inelegantly on the ground, he bent and pulled roughly on my hair, forcing me to look at him.

"I will kill you," I rasped.

To my mortification, he threw his head back and laughed heartily and encouraged the others to do the same.

"Dear child!" he said, wiping a tear of mirth from his eye. "Your king cannot be killed! What a foolish thing to say!"

The next few moments are a little blurry. My muscles were aching from my awkward position and I could not seem to take in enough air. I started to black out, but I was wrenched to my feet.

Then all traces of amusement left him. "But," he hissed, "cross me, boy, and you will wish for death. There are far worse punishments, my beloved. Do not make me become your tormentor."

I remember how the Erlking's eyes burned into mine and my forehead tingled as he forced his way into my thoughts. Flashes started appearing before my eyes as I relived the most painful moments of my life. Only… it wasn't _exactly_ my life. I was so young when I was taken, there weren't too many terrible moments to choose from. And so he _modified _what was left.

A flashback of the time I was punished for being caught stealing an apple… only, my father's face was made of fire and blood and he spanked me not with his hand, but with whips studded with shards of bone.

A flashback of my grandmother's burial ceremony… only the shrouded corpse rose to catch may ankle and attempt to drag me with her into the ground.

I do not remember if I screamed… I assume I did though. Who wouldn't? Perhaps I apologized or begged for him to cease. Whatever it was that I did, it seemed to satisfy him because the visions stopped and I returned to reality. That is… whatever version of reality the palace existed in.

I had long since lost the ability to stand on my own; only the Erlking's grip kept me from collapsing. Now that the punishment was over, he scooped me up and bid the crowd to disperse. I gave one last look toward the warm lady, silently pleading for her help, but she shook her head sadly--there was nothing she could do.

As he carried me back to our little camp on the hill, the king spoke to me in soothing tones.

"Do you understand why you were punished?"

"Because I killed the forest man. Because I scared the others away."

"No, child. Do you truly not understand? I care not for those people. You may do with them as you wish. And you may undermine my daughters' games whenever you like. Why do you not understand this? I have given you free reign over this place. You may do _anything _you wish! I only ask your obedience and submission. You disrespected me in front of our people… and that is unacceptable."

"You are not angry because I killed someone. You are angry because… I yelled at you?"

He did not answer. Instead, he simply laid me down on my pallet and tucked me in--wiping the dampness from my forehead and planting a kiss right on my hairline.

"It's late now, little prince. You have had quite a day. Go to sleep."

I shut my eyes, trying to put order to my whirring thoughts as I listened to him settle onto his own doeskin mat.

"Do you enjoy hurting me?" I asked, staring up at the stars.

I turned and saw a pair of glowing eyes, watching me intently. Then a long arm reached over and I felt the indescribably gentle touch of bony fingers across my face.

When he answered, his voice was full of affection and… _wonder_. "Yes beloved," he whispered, "very much so."

--

I stayed awake long into the night, hours after the Erlking's breaths grew steady and peaceful with sleep, and tried to reconcile the recent events with my own scrambled perceptions of reality.

I was frightened… but not for the reason you might think. You see, I was frightened because a part of me _understood _the Erlking's actions. He was--is--evil. But, it is not evil motivated by power or anger as it is with humans. It is simply the desire to do harm… just because one _can_.

Often I miss the comforts of tender feelings and ideals. I lost that part of me when the Erlking ripped my soul and replaced it with his darkness. But I still possessed an instinct for self-preservation, and that instinct told me that I was nearly broken.

It would not be long, now. The Erlking's plan was nearly successful and soon I would slip away entirely, leaving behind the heir he desired. The prince who welcomed the pain he inflicted. The companion with whom he could enjoy the suffering of others. He wanted someone who _understood _him.

And… I almost did. And I almost wanted to.

"Erik," I whispered into the darkness, "I am Erik."

I had to run away.

--

Once I had made up my mind to do so, leaving was a relatively simple affair. Not easy, but simple.

The ghostly hunters had returned to the palace with an exceptional bounty, which the Erlking's daughters considered just cause for a celebration. The dancing and overall merriment provided the perfect opportunity--when the Erlking was distracted, I sprinkled some herbs into his drink to make him drowsy. It would not keep him asleep for very long, but hopefully it would be enough to give me an edge.

After a few minutes, he announced that he would be retiring for the night and gave his permission for the rest to continue. I waited for him to disappear completely before I made my escape.

I approached the entrance of the palace to find my way blocked. Three sisters--the warm lady, the siren and (to my surprise) the dancer--stood between me and the barrier.

"You are leaving, aren't you, Erik?" the siren asked, tearfully.

I trembled, praying they would not try to stop me. They had been kind to me, I would have hated to have to hurt them. "I am," I said carefully.

The dancer answered, "We want to wish you goodbye."

"So eager to get rid of me then?"

"Something like that," she smirked. Her words made me smile a little. I would miss our gentle teasing of each other. Then she became serious. "You have changed so much from the little child who agitated me so three years ago. You are dark now, and powerful. But in three years you have changed us as well. You have worked your way into my heart, friend. I am--we all are--a bit afraid of you now… but we will never forget the boy you were. And so I wish to give you a gift to aid in your journey."

The dancer laid her hands on my shoulders and closed her eyes. My body began to grow warm and light.

"I give you grace and agility, such as my own. Your reflexes will be quick and you will possess dexterity and elegance in movement unsurpassed by any other member of the human race. I wish you well, my friend."

When she stepped back, I looked down at my body in disbelief. I did not look any different--I still had the scrawny, disproportioned look of youth--but I felt like a new person entirely. My adolescent limbs were still gangly, but had lost their awkwardness. Somehow, I just felt as if I _fit _better.

When I had finished testing and stretching my arms, the siren stepped forward. She looked ready to cry at a moment's notice and I believe that, if my heart still possessed sympathy, I would have felt a great deal of compassion for her.

"I will miss you… and I have missed you. You were my first human companion and for that I am eternally grateful. I, too, have a gift for you."

When she placed her hands on my shoulders, I felt my throat start to tingle.

"I give you a voice such as my own. You will sing with unparallel beauty and your voice shall have the power to entrance and persuade." Then she smiled. "But I suspect you will have better control over it than I will. I wish you well, Erik."

Then I looked to the remaining member of the group. When she approached me, the warm lady's expression had a deeper sadness than the others. She reached for me and I allowed her to take me into her arms.

"So much anger in you, child," she murmured. "I do not fear you… I fear _for _you. You are so young to possess so much hatred. It hurts me to see you so broken."

She stepped back and held me at arms length. I glared at her, irked at her words. She merely gave a sad smile.

"I gift you with a heart, my child. Despite everything… you will have the ability to love. Whether you can _be _loved is up to you. But know that, if you reach for it, the capability is no longer beyond you."

At the time, I would not have been able to explain the sensation I felt. However, I believe modern advances have given me the words to describe it now--it was like receiving an electric shock… only backwards. A burst of energy flashed down my spine and exploded out my torso. It was not painful… just odd… and the jolt knocked me to my knees. Afterward, though… I felt no different.

After a few seconds, I looked up only to find that the sisters had disappeared and I was, once again, alone.

It was for the best, I knew. I am not sure what I would have said to them, anyway. Their goodbyes had been meaningful and, in my limited way, appreciated. But they had taken up valuable time. I knew the Erlking would be coming after me… even then I could sense his anger. My only chance at escape had been shortened considerably.

And so I ran as fast as I could.

--

I looked over my shoulder to see the Erlking in the distance, charging forward on a fearsome steed conjured from dark clouds. When I saw puffs of smoke rolling from the horse's nostrils, I nearly gave up… but one glance at the Erlking's blazing eyes and mask of unparalleled fury and I knew that giving up was no longer an option. I would find no forgiveness… and I could not even expect to find any mercy, either. The Erlking is not renowned for his compassion in general, and this time he actually had good reason to be angry.

With my resolve further cemented by my terror, I pressed forward, dodging over fallen trees and moss-slicked boulders. I was so close to freedom I could smell it. The place where the trees ended was just steps away and I could see a little hut in the distance, the earthy scents wafting from the chimney reminding me that life continued past the forest's edge.

The Erlking was gaining. _Only a few more steps_, I told myself, pushing my screaming limbs to work faster. The king's domain ended at the small stream just before that little hut. If I could only reach it…

Suddenly there was a roar and I turned to look at the Erlking one last time. He looked positively mad and his enraged howl had a timbre that bordered on… laughter. From behind his back he lifted a sparking, blue fireball, which he hurled at me with all his might.

I turned too late and the fireball struck me in the back. The force of the blast pushed me the remaining distance out of the forest and I barely had time to tuck my arms and legs around me before I hit the ground and rolled down the stream's embankment. The water slowed my momentum and after an unsure moment, I uncurled my body and gasped for air.

Suddenly thirsty, I opened my eyes and knelt to take a drink. It was then that I caught the first glimpse of my reflection.

I understood then what the daughters had meant when they said I had _his _eyes. They were rather unusual--all gold and luminous like a cat's. I wondered why my family had not mentioned it before… then again, it's not really typical of a boy to go around having conversations about eye color. And, as odd as I was, I was still a boy at heart.

This mental contemplation was brief--very brief--because a split second later, I was watching the most horrific scene imaginable.

First there was the pain. I felt the wound from the magic fireball sizzling on my back and… spreading. No, not spreading… it felt like it was _sinking _into my bones, lighting my nerves on fire as it worked its way through my blood and muscles like a poison.

And then…

The reflection in the water showed everything. My skin began to bubble and melted away. What remained quickly dried and cracked. I watched in horror as my flesh shriveled and my nose fell away and my eyes appeared to sink back in my skull. I screamed when I looked down at bony hands with skeletal fingers--it would seem the rest of my body was sharing the same grisly fate as my face.

I thought I was dying. I _knew _I was dying.

But then it stopped.

Suddenly, I wish I _had _died. I certainly looked the part. After the Erlking's vengeful magic had run its course, I bore the resemblance of one who had been dead and buried for many years.

I had become a living corpse.

--

I stayed there, in the water, for hours… until even I had begun to feel the chill. I had planned to visit the little hut on the other side of the stream and perhaps seek food and shelter for the rest of the night. But it was clear that would no longer be a wise plan. My new appearance would have frightened anyone… and the people in that area were particularly superstitious.

No, my best chance would be to press on. And so I did. I tore fabric from my jacket and wrapped it around my face--a makeshift mask, in case I stumbled across another traveler.

Then I began to walk.

And I never stopped. Not really. My journey lasted for centuries; it was as if some invisible force was pulling me--a restless feeling compelling me to keep… searching for something.

But at least I knew what that something was. My soul had been torn, and I wanted it back. You see, your soul--like energy--cannot be destroyed. It can be twisted and broken and ruined and crushed… but its existence cannot be erased. It can be rewarded in Heaven or banished to Hell or even locked up in that horrible forest palace… but it has to be _somewhere_.

I had lost half of my soul. And something that is lost must be found.

But there was more…

Despite what had happened when I learned of the Erlking's deception… something told me that _she _was still out there somewhere. My angel, the one meant only for me. I would find my broken soul and she would help me put it back together again. She was mine… and now I needed her more than ever.

And so it was with these thoughts in mind that I began my wandering.

I feel as if I should mention, though, that I was not some mindless ghost acting on instinct alone.

Sometimes I think of my obsession as a chronic condition--with periods of rest punctuated sudden flare ups. For ten or twenty years I would search ceaselessly, using whatever tools and techniques were most modern at the time.

When I failed to find her, I would fall into a depression, during which I committed more than a few dark and violent acts against the human race that I had begun to despise.

But after that I would experience a long period of calm. My mind would clear of its manic drive and I would be able to concentrate on other things. I took advantage of that by exploring the world dozens of times over, grasping onto whatever knowledge I could.

Despite my brokenness, the experiences I have gathered have not been all bad. Throughout everything, I persevered. My mind remained strong throughout all the emotional highs and lows.

But then… something snapped.

I am, to express it as concisely as possible, completely mad.

During my last period of obsession… my control faltered. Suddenly (or slowly, depending on your frame of reference) my mind deteriorated. Any boundaries I had placed on myself fell away and my actions were no longer restricted by my sense of morality. I descended into insanity.

My downward spiral began precisely twenty-one years ago, today. I did not know why at first… but I now understand completely…

It was the exact moment _she _was born.


	7. Part Two Christine

**Modern Day - Christine  
**

"I have to tell you, Christine, we are really glad to have you with us. We've been so shorthanded lately, I don't know what we would have done if you hadn't shown up when you did."

"I am happy to be here. Everyone has been so friendly… and, if you don't mind me saying so, the pay is fantastic."

Dr. Richard chuckled a bit. "Well, you say that now… but give it a week or so. This is not exactly the most glamorous job."

I had to smile. Dr. Richard is a really sweet man… sort of the grandfatherly type. "That is rather… blunt… of you, sir. It's a miracle you got anyone to even apply with a speech like that."

"I think honesty is the best policy in this line of work."

"Good point," I admitted. "But don't worry, sir. 'Glamorous' is _not _what I was looking for."

"We'll work out just fine, then. But might I ask, Miss Daae… what is it you were looking for? I read through your résumé… college junior, music major… internships and volunteer work at local operas and theaters. All in all, I'd say it's all rather impressive. What I don't understand is what prompted you to take a job changing sheets and mopping floors in our hospital's psych ward."

"To be honest, sir, I think I was just looking for a change of pace for a few months."

There. I figured that was an ambiguous answer. I couldn't bring myself to tell him the truth--that, when my father died, my career in music died with him--that I was going through a mid-mid-midlife crisis and just couldn't bring myself to sing anymore--that I wanted to run as far away from my life as possible instead of facing my problems. Nope. Dr. Richard was a nice enough guy, but he was a shrink, first and foremost, and I did _not _want him analyzing me or doing whatever it is they do when you'd rather just be left alone.

"Anyway," I continued, "I mentioned to Mrs. Giry that I was looking for a summer job and---"

"Oh, Marie Giry? I didn't know she was the one who recommended you! She's been with us for ages… best secretary I've ever had. Actually, I was just about to introduce you to her daughter, Meg, since you'll be working together. But I suppose that's not necessary anymore, now is it?"

"No, sir. Meg and I have known each other for as long as I can remember."

"Hey, Christine!" I heard a voice call. Meg has the amusing habit of popping up whenever her name is spoken. I sometimes wonder how she does it… like… does she have microphones everywhere or something, just in case someone is talking about her? It's really weird… but really funny.

"Ah. Miss Giry, we were just talking about you. Perhaps you'd like to walk with us?"

"Sure."

"As you are aware, the Snowdrop Garden Institute is a subsidiary of the main hospital, which is located a good two miles away. That gives us a certain amount of privacy, which helps keep the patients calm. Unfortunately it means that, as I generally split my time between the two campuses, I am not always available to come running whenever there is a problem. Therefore my colleague, Dr. Moncharmin, will be handling the day to day emergencies."

"Emergencies? Do you have a lot of them?" I asked, slightly nervous. So far, I was getting some pretty strange mental images of this place. I have seen too many movies.

He just laughed. "Just as many as can be expected. But that's nothing you need to concern yourself with. For the most part, your duties will be limited to general housekeeping--mopping the floors of the common rooms, changing bed sheets while the patients are out… that sort of thing--and also assisting the kitchen staff and delivering meals when necessary. I just want you to be familiar with everything that happens here, just in case."

I took a little sigh of relief. I had taken the job because I was sick of dealing with people. Standing about in a laundry room, folding pillowcases, seemed like the most perfect thing I could think of.

The full tour lasted about an hour as Dr. Richard prattled on about… well… more than I ever cared to know. He was a researcher at heart, I believe, and couldn't stop straying to the various things he was learning about particular syndromes and which patient was responding to which treatments.

More than once I have wondered about doctor-patient confidentiality and how that holds up with Dr. Richard's enthusiasm for chatter. But I am not a challenging personality by nature, and I don't tend to ask many questions--which, it turns out, is why they hired me. I decided to stay silent and just be thankful that he was not _my _doctor.

While it was mildly interesting--I guess you could call it that--I found my mind drifting during his speech. Thankfully, Meg continued to tag along and make whispered comments and silly faces when the doctor wasn't listening. I made little noises of acknowledgement at regular intervals as I tried to memorize all the wings and corridors we passed through.

Eventually we came upon a hallway that was unlike the rest. I can't describe it, really… it was just less friendly looking, and more secure. A burly looking orderly leaned against the wall, reading one of those conspiracy newspapers (you know, the one with the three hundred pound baby or the eyewitness account of Elvis eating at a local Denny's) with a bored expression on his face.

His eyes lit up, though, when he caught sight of Meg.

"Little Giry," he said cheerfully, "How's my favorite girl?"

I over at the girl in question, who was practically beet red.

"I'm fine Joe," she said with more bashfulness than I have _ever _seen Meg project. "Joe this is my friend Christine. She's new here."

Before my blushing friend could continue the introduction, the man called 'Joe' stuck his massive, hairy hand out for me to shake.

"Nice ta meetcha Chrissy! The name's Joseph. Joseph Buquet. But you can call me Joe… Little Giry does."

Ah. So this was the infamous Joseph Buquet. Meg has had a crush on him since the third grade. I doubt he had any clue, though. Why would he? He was like fifteen years older than her. For crying out loud… she used to bring him Play-Doh sculptures when she came to visit her mom at work!

I shook the man's hand and leaned over to Meg and whispered, "What do you see in him?"

She gave me a starry-eyed smile and said, "He tells the best stories."

Well. Whatever. To each his own, I suppose.

"Thanks… ah… Joe. It is a pleasure to meet you as well. Meg says you tell great stories--I'd love to hear one sometime."

Meg took that opportunity to punch me in the shoulder and bury her face in her hands.

"Oh, you betcha! You're new here… I bet you've never heard of what they keep hidden in the---"

"Mr. Buquet," Dr. Richard interrupted, "don't go scaring the poor girl with your ghost stories. It is her first day."

He shrugged. "Alrighty. Maybe later. I'll see you around, then."

He smiled and flicked Meg on the forehead before going back to his reading. I looked down the unfriendly hallway that he appeared to be guarding saw another man--a doctor, by the looks of it--walking toward us.

"Dr. Moncharmin," Dr. Richard said genially, "I was hoping you'd pop up. I'd like you to meet Miss Daae."

I shook the new doctor's hand. He was polite enough, but he seemed to miss that sense of warmth that I got from Dr. Richard. Not that there's anything wrong with that--if you want to be cold and professional, who am I to argue? I only meant to say that I didn't get that same sort of friendliness I did from everyone else.

"Good to finally meet you, Miss Daae. I knew when I read your résumé that you would be perfect for this job."

That was a rather odd comment, I thought. I mean… didn't Dr. Richard say the exact opposite an hour ago?

"We were just giving Miss Daae the ten cent tour. Care to join us?"

"Actually, Dr. Richard, I just came to remind you of the board meeting you are five minutes late for at the hospital."

Dr. Richard got a panicked look. "Oh no! I absolutely forgot!" Apparently that happens often. "Dr. Moncharmin, would you be so kind as to finish up here?"

"I would be delighted. Miss Daae, if you would follow me…"

Meg and I went to follow him down the hallway from which he came but he stopped us and turned around. "Miss Giry, I believe they needed some extra help in the kitchen. Run along and see if you can lend a hand."

She looked slightly annoyed. "But I wanted--"

"_Now_, Miss Giry," he commanded. With a huff, she trotted off, leaving me feeling rather awkward that the doctor had dispatched both my companions in under a minute.

I followed him down the long passage until we reached a dark, metal door that was locked with a keypad and one of those hand-scanner things I thought only existed in movies. When he turned to me next, he had lost his polite tone and his face was very grim.

"Miss Daae, before we start I would like to remind you of the confidentiality contract you signed when you were first hired."

"Yes, sir."

"You are to reveal none of what you see here to _anyone. _Do you understand?"

I was a little confused about why he chose to remind me of this _now_… but I still confirmed that I understood. Somehow I had a feeling that this wouldn't have been a part of Dr. Richard's tour.

After a suspicious look, he nodded and unlocked the heavy steel door. I have to admit it was all rather dark and ominous seeming. I wondered if Dr. Moncharmin had a penchant for melodrama.

Turns out he doesn't. He is absolutely serious when a situation demands it.

"In this ward, we keep the most dangerous of our patients. We have thirteen currently. Once a month, they are escorted to down the hall for showers, medical and psychological evaluations, and the like. You will do your best to clean and inspect each empty room as this is happening. In the meantime, you will deliver meals on specialized trays from the kitchens."

I was… rather flabbergasted. This was making less and less sense to me.

"Once a month? But what about the counseling sessions… or group therapy? How can they--"

He interrupted me. "Let me put it this way: these patients will not--they _cannot_--be rehabilitated. They will never leave this place. Our job is merely to house them--keep them fed and alive and, most importantly, _away _from the rest of society."

"Is that… is that even _legal_?"

He sighed. "The law does not reach to this ward. I am not happy about it, either… but the hospital gets a lot of money to make these people go away. We just… we deal with it the best we can."

I started to interject again, but he surprised me by taking on of my hands in both of his.

"Try to understand. I know this sounds cruel, Miss Daae. I thought so too, once. But, trust me, these are not the kind of people you want running loose in the streets."

The look in his eyes was… just so pained. I was not reassured in the slightest… but it was enough for me to keep quiet for the time being.

Not that I would have had much to say. I was rendered rather speechless as we walked slowly down the corridor. Each room was marked with a number. At the top of each door was a window, about the size of my head, and at the bottom was a little slot, I assume through which the food would be delivered. I peeked in one of the windows and saw that the cells were equipped with a bed, sink, and toilet--the basic components of a room that one would not be able to leave--and no more.

"Go ahead and look," the doctor prompted. I suppose I had not done a very good job of looking without looking like I was looking. I wasn't sure if it was rude or not. Dr. Moncharmin beckoned me over and tapped lightly on the glass of one of the windows. "Two-way mirrors," he explained. "You can see in, but they can't see you." Then he gestured to one of the individual speakers. "We use these to communicate with the patients inside. Otherwise they cannot hear us, either."

I'll have to admit, I was becoming quickly fascinated with everything I was seeing--the sick sort of fascination that makes you keep staring at a horror flick, even though you know it is way too gory and you're going to get nightmares later. Anyway, I cautiously wandered the corridor, peering into each cell and observing the people inside.

"They don't look very dangerous," I observed.

"Looks can deceive, which I am sure you know." Tapping on the glass, he pressed the intercom button on one of the cell doors and said a few words. I nearly fell back in surprise when the man inside began raving and clawing at the door.

"Why am I down here?" I asked. "Are you sure this is safe?" I was having second thoughts about this job. And I could speculate why it paid so well.

"I assure you it is quite safe as long as you keep to yourself and stay in this corridor. Not even the most clever escape artist could open one of _these _doors."

I was not overly convinced, but I nodded anyway. Sometimes I look back on this and I wonder what on earth was wrong with me. Have I always been so stupid? I should have run before I reached the end of the hallway. Because as soon as I arrived at Cell 13, I was lost. There would be no turning back for me. Ever.

Inside I saw the figure of a man, sitting on his bed and scribbling furiously on bits of paper. I could not keep my eyes away. But then, suddenly, he stopped. He appeared to--I don't know if this is the right description--sniff the air and look suspiciously around the room. Every ounce of breath left my lungs in a surprised burst as he turned and looked _right at me _with glowing, yellow eyes.

"Are you sure they can't see us?" I asked, rather unnerved.

"Quite sure," the doctor assured me.

It was hard to be assured, though, when his eyes seemed to be meeting mine with intensity. It seemed to be so… on purpose. But the doctor had no reason to lie. If he said they were two-way mirrors, they probably were.

Dr. Moncharmin seemed to notice what had spooked me and spoke up. "That is Erik," he explained. "He would tell us nothing more about himself than that. We do not even know a last name. But don't worry, you won't be having anything to do with him whatsoever. I'll have Mr. Buquet bring his food once every day or two. That is a task in itself. Thankfully, he doesn't choose to eat very often."

"But I thought you let them out once a month? What then?"

"Not him. Not under any circumstances," he said firmly. "Erik has not left that room for over twenty years."

"But what about--"

"It is simply too risky. He is unlike anyone else I have ever encountered. To open that door would mean putting this entire hospital in jeopardy. Possibly even more than that, if he were to get loose."

Even then I was feeling his draw. Throughout his explanation I could not seem to break my stare with the yellow eyed man. It is the oddest thing to have a staring contest with someone who supposedly can't even see you, by the way.

"Why does he wear a mask?" I asked, a moment later.

Dr. Moncharmin shook his head and took hold of my arm, steering me back out toward the exit. "No more questions, Miss Daae. I believe we have seen enough for one afternoon. Let's go back to the front office, shall we? It is almost time for lunch. I will introduce you to the kitchen staff."

I don't really remember the rest of the day. I am sure I learned all sorts of important things. But I could not seem to stop thinking about the man they call Erik. And the other patients, of course… but mostly Erik. It is like I was terrified and enthralled with him at the same time.

Why me? It did not make any sense. Why would they hire someone brand new, who has yet to prove themselves, to take on such a sensitive task? That is the kind of thing you entrust a senior member of the staff with. I was only a summer-hire! I should not have even be allowed to _see _that area of the hospital--much less work there.

Why would the managers do that?

As it would turn out--they wouldn't. Normally. But this was a special case.

For better or for worse, Fate had intervened.

The rules of reality no longer applied.


	8. Chapter 8

**Christine**

That night is when the dreams began. I don't know if I could call them nightmares--though a couple of times I woke up wishing my parents were alive so I could crawl into bed with them--but they were very emotionally intense. They were dreams that made me feel ecstatic and miserable at the same time, if makes any sense.

No, I suppose it doesn't make any sense. I guess it's difficult to explain. I'll just describe the first one and we'll go from there.

In my dream, I was not _me_… but I was someone else. The world around me was rather blurry--not blurry like I forgot to put on my glasses but blurry in the sense that I see everything but it is entirely unimportant. The only thing that could hold my attention for any amount of time was the feeling of anticipation that had settled in my stomach like a rock.

That's all I can say about it, really. It felt like this blurry nothingness went on for ages and ages and the anticipation… the expectation… became an ever-present ache.

I could hear a voice that whispered into the empty room.

_I have waited centuries for you. _

But then… everything brightened. It was very sudden, too. Everything cleared up and the ache became a burn and I did not know what to do. I felt compelled to do _something_… but what? I felt what can only be described as _failure_. And the burn became so great that I just… couldn't… take it… anymore.

That voice again, still soft but coming out like a groan. I could almost feel myself--or, the person I was supposed to be--weeping in frustration.

_Where are you, angel?_

And that was all there was to it. I woke up. This was the first dream, which left me feeling confused and angry… which made me even more confused and angry because you are not supposed to feel confused and angry when you first wake up… you are supposed to feel happy and refreshed.

The next day I went to work looking and feeling like the time I pulled an all-nighter before finals and then fell asleep half-way through the test.

"Boy, Christine," Meg observed, "you look awful." That's Meg, for you. All the subtlety of a jackhammer.

"Thanks. I feel awful."

"Are you sick?"

Joe nudged Meg aside and looked me up and down. "Nah, she's not sick. Right, Chrissy? Just dreading the first day of work. Don't think I didn't notice… they put you in the hyena cage, didn't they?"

"The did?" Meg asked, mildly awestruck. "I knew it!"

The hyena cage? "The what?"

"You know… the high-security ward. I saw the doc giving you the tour yesterday. That's where the real crazies go."

"But I thought--"

Joe interrupted me. He did that a lot--which I always thought was extraordinarily rude. "You thought everyone here was off their rocker, right? Otherwise they wouldn't be here?" I nodded. "Yeah, well… these aren't your average nut jobs. You're not going to be seeing _those _ones shuffling about, counting buttons all day long. Especially with Erik in there…"

"Erik?" I asked, against my better judgment. The name made me shiver. There was something about him that unsettled me… and I couldn't get those eyes out of my mind. "Yeah, I saw him through the two-way mirror. What was with him? I mean… he looks like he doesn't even belong there."

"He belongs in Hell, that's where he belongs. That is the creepiest guy I've ever seen. He's like this super-genius who just cracked. Killed a bunch of people before they finally caught him. I heard he even killed one of the guards who hauled him in here. Poor guy tried to touch his mask and fell down dead on the spot."

"But Joe," Meg countered, "I thought that was never proven."

He shrugged. "Of course they couldn't prove it… nobody knows how he did it. I got to see the security tapes when I first started working here. He barely touched the guy… just touched his shoulder for a second. When they got him restrained, they asked what he did and he just kept laughing and saying 'It's easy if you mean it!' over and over. So they heaved him into cell 13 and never let him out again."

Well, Joseph had me completely rethinking whether or not I should have taken this job. I had to ask about the mask, though. What was under there that was worth killing someone?

When I voice this, Joe's eyes lit up. He's the kind of guy who loved being at the center of attention--and if that meant he had to tell outrageous stories, then so be it. I kept reminding myself of this.

"He's the most hideous thing you've ever seen. He's got papery skin that's all yellowy-gray and… get this… he has _no nose_. And he's---"

"Mr. Buquet," a voice interrupted. It was Dr. Moncharmin. "Scaring Miss Daae on her first day? Really? I expect far more professional behavior from you. Keep your ghost stories to yourself, please. Miss Giry, Miss Daae… I believe you ladies have work to do."

Meg pouted. "Grumpy old man… he's no fun at all."

Joe grinned and tweaked her nose. "Don't worry about it, kiddo. That's just how he is. I'll see you later. How about you two let me buy you lunch. I'll tell you all you ever wanted to know about this place."

Meg was practically glowing, but Joe was looking at _me _when he made his offer, and I got the distinct impression that he was trying to hit on me without Meg knowing.

"I don't…" I started. But Meg interrupted me.

"We'd love to!"

"_Meg!" _I hissed, after he left. "_Why did you agree for me?_"

She pouted. "Please, Christine! He wasn't going to ask me out by myself… it would have been awkward. He needs encouragement. And what if I go alone and he gets scared and backs out? If you don't come I'll… I'll just _die_. Please… oh please, please, pretty please, Christine, with sugar on top and---"

"I get it, Meg."

"So we can go?"

"_Fine_." When did I become so easy to push around? I can't remember if I have always been this meek. But if someone is adamant enough about something, I'll relent just like that. There came a point when I couldn't even tell which thoughts were my own, anymore. But I'll get to that later.

--

"Hey, Christine, I'm off now. You know, Joe invited me to come hang out with some of his buddies tonight. Do you want to come along?"

I had a hunch, of sorts, that was making me a little wary. Joseph seemed content treating Meg like a little sister, but I was beginning to believe that he did not see me in the same light. It hadn't been long… but I could just tell, from the winks, lingering looks, and awkward attempts at conversations, that he was interested in me beyond what you'd expect from a work acquaintance.

Now don't go thinking he's a sleaze ball or anything (I mean… I guess he could be--I don't know him too well--but not because of _this_. That's all I'm trying to say.). It was not his fault, I don't think. He was not intentionally trying to hurt Meg by using her to get to me… he was honestly just oblivious to her feelings. But I was not oblivious… and I just couldn't do that to Meg.

And there was also the age factor. If I was twenty one, that made him like… thirty six. Okay, don't get me wrong--if two people love each other, then I don't think age differences matter too much. But I was most definitely _not _in love with Joseph Buquet, so I don't feel prejudiced in saying that I was a little weirded out by the fact that I was still watching _Barney and Friends _on his twenty first birthday.

But, whatever. The point is that I was not interested in him, he was interested in me, and Meg was interested in him. All in all, I thought I should just keep out of the situation entirely.

"Thanks for the offer, Meg… but I think I just want to get home. It's been a long day and I just… well, I don't feel like being social."

"But you _never _feel like being social. You should really try to get out more, Christine. Maybe you'll meet someone special. When was the last time you've been on a real date?"

I sighed. She was right, it had been awhile. Actually, I hadn't dated anyone seriously since I broke up with Raoul in high school. I couldn't seem to let go of him. It's not like we broke up on bad terms… his family moved out of the country, and how were a couple of 16 year-olds supposed to deal with that? We wrote letters for a little while but… well… you know.

The thing is, I still liked him.

But, she did have a point… it was probably time to move on.

"Maybe you are right. Okay, I might join you guys later on after I finish up here."

"Oh super! I'm so excited! I found this mega-cute guy at the coffee shop down the street and I just can't wait to introduce you!" Then she squealed and did a little pirouette, humming what I _think _she intended to be that matchmaker song from _Fiddler on the Roof._

"I meant I'd _think _about it!" I shouted after her. She wasn't listening.

Oh well. I shook my head and went back to stacking dinner trays on my cart. Meg was a little much for me sometimes. Her antics, however, had put me in a pleasant enough mood and took the edge off my nervousness about entering the high-security ward… which I had put off until the end of my shift, out of sheer dread.

I made my way down the corridor, trying to finish my work there as quickly as possible. One by one, I opened the slot under each door. Each time, I counted slowly to twenty. If a dirty tray was thrust through the slot, I would pick it up and replace it with a fresh tray. If not, I was to assume the patient was not hungry and move on. My instructions had been very specific, and I was determined to follow them to the letter.

That is when the lights went out.

"Don't even think about it," a voice said.

"Joe, is that you?"

"Do not listen to your friend's advice. I forbid it."

"This isn't funny, Joseph. Turn the lights back on!" Really, I had absolutely no reason to blame Joe for this. It doesn't even make any sense now that I look back on it. But… he was the only person who came to mind at the time. And it was a lot safer to blame him than… well… _any _of the alternatives.

"Any man who touches you will pay dearly. You are meant for me, alone."

I started to panic. And I'm fairly certain I was crying by that point. "You… you're scaring me. Please turn the lights back on."

I sensed a presence behind me. Someone leaned to speak directly into my ear--so close I could feel their breath on my neck… so close that they were _nearly _touching me, but not quite.

"I have waited for you, Christine. I have wanted you ever since I was eight years old and I _will not lose you now._ Do you understand, angel mine? Do you feel it? You are my own."

I whimpered and covered my face. "I… I… p-_please_…"

And, just like that, the lights popped back on.

But… I was alone. It seemed like whoever was talking to me just vanished into thin air.

Except…

The door to cell 13 was open.

Just a crack… but it was definitely open.

I think.

Later I would doubt myself. Sometimes I _still _doubt myself. But, at the time I was scared spitless so I left everything an ran as fast as I could, trying to get as far away from the high-security ward as possible. I smacked my shoulder on the door pretty hard, trying to force it open, before it even occurred to me to use my key and pass-code to get through the lock. By the time I made it to the outer set of doors, I practically launched myself into the hall. With a gracefulness that few mortals possess, I tripped over Joe--who was still guarding the door, reading that blasted magazine--and landed right on my face. I did manage to turn my head just in time, which is probably what stopped me from breaking my nose, but I twisted my wrist in the process, which hurt like hell.

"Watch it there, Chrissy!" Joseph exclaimed, hoisting me back up on my feet. "Are you okay? Where's the fire?"

In one breath, I tried to explain as much as possible. "The lights went out and I was hearing a voice and when the lights came on again… Joe… the door, number 13, was _open_!"

He actually laughed a little, which rather irked me. "Look, baby… I didn't mean to scare you so much earlier. It was just speculation. Do you think I'd still be working here after all these years if I thought we were in some kind of danger?"

"But I _saw_…"

He cracked open the door enough to see down the corridor. "I don't know what you thought you saw, but from here, door 13 looks locked up tight… just like always. I think you've just had a long day. I swear this place can screw with your mind sometimes. You just need to get out and unwind a bit. Speaking of which, are you coming out with us tonight?"

"I… ah… I…"

"Wow, you're really spooked, aren't you? Tell you what, I'll finish up for you. You go on without me--ask Meg if you need directions--and I'll just meet you guys there, deal?"

"O-okay… sure. Yeah. I'll see you tonight."

He gave me a wink and disappeared through the doors to go retrieve the trays that I knocked over and finish feeding the patients and… well… all around cleaning up the mess I made with my little panic attack.

I was shaking pretty hard by the time I reached my car, and the aches in my wrist and shoulder were starting to catch up with me. Really, the last thing I wanted to do was go out with a bunch of people and pretend to enjoy it. But, I did promise Joe… and he was being awful nice, covering for me like that… so I thought I owed it to him to at least make an appearance.

After an hour, though, when he still hadn't shown up, I was starting to get a little restless. I was achy and tired and… well, you know that point in time when you think 'I'm not grumpy yet but I could be at the drop of a hat'? It was like that. But I trudged on, smiling and nodding politely to whatever nonsense the young men were spouting and being generously patient even when their rowdy antics were giving me a headache.

Finally, I'd had enough. Looking at the clock, I'd decided I'd paid my debt and shouldn't feel guilty about leaving. I went to say something to Meg, but she was engrossed in listening to some oaf's tale about the time he and Joe went on a whitewater rafting trip or some other dumb thing. So, she waved me off and I took that as permission to get out of there.

As I was walking out the door, I bumped into someone.

"Sorry," I muttered.

"Christine?" the stranger asked.

"Yeah, I'm…" I looked up and saw that this was no stranger but, rather, someone I never thought I'd see again. "Raoul?"

He grinned. "No, _I'm _Raoul. But you are Christine Daae… and you look… stunning."

I was blushing. I know I was blushing. "But you… when did you get here… how…" I am such an imbecile when I'm nervous. Can't even get a coherent sentence out. No wonder I hadn't had many boyfriends.

"Eloquent as ever, little Lotte," he said. Then he looked at my purse and jacket and frowned. "Were you just leaving?"

"Well…"

Without letting me answer, he replied, "You're right. This place is lame. Let's get out of here. We can get some coffee and catch up."

And that was that. We went to the local coffee shop (I vaguely wondered which guy Meg deemed 'cute' enough to introduce me to) and shared stories. It was so great to see him again. We talked longer than I expected and it was well after midnight when I looked at my watch and realized that I _had _to go home or I wouldn't get up for work in the morning.

Raoul was as considerate as I remembered, and he walked me to my car and made me promise to call him next time I had a day off. Then I drove off, feeling giddy and lighter than I had felt in a long time.

I was happy. But I was being selfish. The polite thing would have been to call and apologize to Joe for disappearing before he even got there.

If I hadn't been so selfish, I might have known that Joe never made it to the restaurant that night.


	9. Chapter 9

**Christine**

There are not words to describe how absolutely dreadful I felt when I woke up the next morning. Do you ever concentrate on something _really _hard as you are falling asleep, hoping that if you think about it enough, you might dream about it? Well, I do. Like when I was little and Dad used to tell me stories of Little Lotte and the Angel of Music--I would imagine myself in her position so I could attempt to induce a dream where the Angel of Music came to _me_.

Well, I did something like that, that night after I reconnected with Raoul. I was warm and fuzzy and…well, I guess _twitterpated _would be the right word… and I was hoping to hold onto those feelings just a little longer.

And it worked… sort of… for a short time. Then everything backfired. I think the confusing and frustrating dreams I had been having previously didn't really like being shoved aside.

Anyway, it all started so beautifully. Raoul and I were dancing around a garden. It was the playful sort of dancing--the flirty kind, like the way that we used twirl about and chase each other as teenagers. It was the first time I had really felt that kind of contentment since my father passed away.

_My father…_

I wondered if I had even told Raoul about my father.

And, just like that, I was in the present. Raoul twirled me under his arm--but, when I looked up, he was gone. Just like that, he disappeared. I thought, perhaps, he was hiding… but my smile slowly faded as I looked around and around and did not find him.

I was in a forest. In the distance I could hear laughter and dancing of another sort. I could see flashes of brightness from a fire and the colorful garments of women and children.

There was a rustling and I looked up to see a small boy, sitting on a tree limb, his little feet swinging. He had lovely eyes. Kind of yellow.

"What is it you seek, angel?" The boy asked.

"My friend, Raoul," I answered.

He cocked his head, like a puppy who doesn't understand a command. "I do not believe you," he answered. It was such a childish thing to say that I was surprised when he followed it up with, "You seek safety. You seek love."

"He gives me those things."

"Perhaps. But there is more. You are missing something. Likewise, you carry something which does not belong to you."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Sadly, he shook his head and sighed. "Turn around, angel mine, and see your future. Is this the man who can bear you to his side and sustain you?"

I turned and gasped. There, hanging by his neck from a tree, was Raoul. He face was blue and bloated, eyes protruding from his head. His tongue hung out the side of his mouth… it was swollen and bloody as if he had bitten it.

"What---" I started.

The boy giggled. "Look what I can do!" he cried, gleefully. I whipped around to look at him and saw that he had somehow transformed. He was still small, like a child, but his face was one of a mummy and his bones were sharp and skeletal. Everything about the little boy screamed _death_.

With another childish giggle, he leapt off the high tree limb, vanishing into thin air before he could even touch the ground.

I woke up screaming.

--

"Good gravy, Christine," Meg teased. "What's up with you? You look even worse than yesterday."

"Just tired, I guess," I answered absently. I had spent much of the morning folding towels and bedclothes. It was one of those tedious tasks that nobody liked to do… but I was thankful for the repetition. I don't think my mind could have handled anything more complicated.

"Late night, hmm?" she said, nudging me knowingly. "Don't think I didn't notice you leaving with that guy last night. He was a hottie… do I know him?"

"That was Raoul."

"Chagny? Really?"

"Yeah, he's back in town for awhile."

"Hey that's awesome!" She slapped me on the back and I cringed when her hand touched my bruised shoulder.

"Ah! Watch it, Meg! That really hurts."

She gave me a thorough look. "Did you whack it pretty bad? Oh… and your wrist is nasty. You should get that looked at."

"I'll check on it later," I said. Then, almost as an afterthought, I mentioned, "Hey… did you give Joe my regrets? I'm sorry I ditched you guys like that. Is he mad?"

"Oh, you didn't know? Joe never showed up last night."

I paused. He seemed to be looking forward to getting together with everyone. "Are you sure? Is he okay?"

She rolled her eyes. "Of course, I am sure. I would have noticed. He's probably fine… he's a flake like that sometimes. It just one of those many quirks I love about him. Did you know he didn't even bother showing up for work today?"

"He didn't?"

"Nope. Dr. Richard is _ticked_. He's going to be in a world of trouble when they finally track him down."

"Why do you sound so cheerful about that?"

Meg shrugged and I had the impression she was being mischievous... that falsely innocent look, you know? "Because he's going to get yelled at… and I am going to be right here, waiting to comfort him."

"Sneaky, Meg. Very sneaky."

--

"You're back," a voice exclaimed. It was a beautiful voice--nothing like the growls and whispers I had encountered the last time I'd entered that hallway--and sounded amused. "You were so skittish before… I did not think you would return."

I twisted around, trying to see where the sound was coming from. My eyes finally settled on Cell 13, where I saw the red light, indicating that someone had switched the speakers on. That still did not explain how the occupant--Erik--could have seen me, but I just assumed that the same switch activated the light that would allow him to see past the mirror. That sounds reasonable enough, right?

_Someone must have left this on, _I assured myself. I had seen Dr. Moncharmin coming in and out of this area. I assumed he had been attempting to speak with some of the patients and merely forgotten to turn off the speaker.

In case you've noticed, I was making a lot of assumptions. You know what they say about assuming--although, in this case, it would be a vastly inappropriate understatement. But if you think this marks the end to my idiocy… hold on, it gets worse. Much worse. By the time I truly understood the folly of my naivety, I was too far gone.

"Can you hear me?" the voice asked, when I did not answer right away. Oh, it was such a pleasant voice. So calm and polite and… so very, very sane.

But then I remembered where I was.

"I… ah… don't think I should be talking to you," I said, reaching up to switch off the speaker. Erik's gaze snapped to my injured hand and he gave me a peculiar look.

"My, my… whatever happened to your wrist? That looks painful."

I don't know why, but I was suddenly very self conscious. I pulled my arm down from the switch and cradled it against my chest. It did look pretty bad--all blue and swollen. I probably should have put some ice on it the night before.

"Oh don't be embarrassed!" he insisted, hastily. "Hold it up to the window, so that I can have a proper look at it."

Very slowly, I raised a shaky arm so that it was level with the window, careful to stay at least two feet away from the glass.

He clucked his tongue sympathetically. "Oh dear, that _is _terrible. But not beyond repair. If you let me out, I will wrap it for you."

I gasped. Was he serious?

"Quite serious," he assured me. But… I hadn't voiced that thought out loud… had I?

He continued, "I only want to help you. Unlock the door… just for a second. I will even tell you the door code."

His voice was… so very nice. Nice voice. Liquid calm. I suddenly found myself very tempted to do as he asked. _Yes, _I thought, _I should let him out. Only for a second. He only wants to help. _

I had, in fact, reached for the panel to key in the code to unlock the door when I was startled out of my trance by a piercing alarm.

"Oh, my," he sighed disappointedly, and his voice was normal again--pleasant but not hypnotic. "That is the lock-down alarm. You should probably go, Christine. This will be the first place they check. If it's not too much trouble, do you mind turning off the mirror and the speaker before you go? I'd hate for you to get into trouble for speaking to me."

I nodded. I was perturbed by the alarm. Even more so, I was uncomfortable with the thought that _he_ knew my name; my nametag only listed me as Ms. Daae.

At the same time, I was oddly thankful that this patient cared to keep me out of trouble. Many patients, I had learned, liked to cause problems with the staff just for the heck of it.

At any rate, I couldn't give it too much thought, as I quickly ran a check to be sure that everything was in order, and left the high-security ward.

What I encountered, when I reached the main corridor, was more horrendous than I could ever have anticipated.

Meg--sweet, bubbly Meg--was sobbing in her mother's arms as a couple of men rolled away a stretcher, occupied by a sheet-covered body.

"Christine," she moaned, when she saw me, "it is just horrible. Joe… he killed himself."

"_What_?"

"Dr. Moncharmin… he came into his office to find him… hanging… just above his desk. He hung himself, Christine! Committed suicide… right there, in the office!"

"How did… I mean… _when_? I thought he wasn't even here today." I was looking at my watch--it was late evening.

"That's just it… the doctor had meetings… all day, in the other building. He just got to his office not long ago and found… Oh, Christine… they said by the looks of things, he must have been there all night."

There are not words to describe to you what I was feeling just then. If only I hadn't left last night… if only I had insisted he come with me… or waited for him… or…

But how was I to know something like this would happen? He seemed so easy, you know? Cheerful. And, of all places, why did he hang himself in the doctor's office?

By this time, Meg had left her mother's arms and was now hiccoughing noisily into my shoulder.

"Why didn't he tell me? I mean… if he was that bad off… why didn't he _say _something? We could have helped him."

I patted Meg's back and murmured as many platitudes as I could think of because--really--what else can you do in that situation? I did not want to heap upon her my own building sense of guilt. Instead I put my energy into comforting my friend. I could sort out my feelings later.

--

But eventually later came… and I didn't really want to sort out my feelings. Had my odd dream been a coincidence? How could it have been anything but? And the dream… it wasn't about Joe… it was about Raoul.

_Raoul_…

I had a moment of panic and hastily picked up the phone and called him. By the time he answered, I had nearly fainted with lack of oxygen from the breath I had been holding.

"Christine?"

"Raoul!"

"Is that you, Christine? Is everything alright? You sound upset?"

Just then I had to make a quick decision. I desperately needed someone to talk to… someone I could vent my feelings to. But--I can't explain it--something about it just didn't _feel _right. I was churning inside… but _something _told me that I needed to keep this to myself. For now, anyway.

"I am fine, Raoul. I just wanted to hear your voice."

"Well… thanks, I guess. Are you sure everything's okay? You know, I'm always here if you need to talk."

"I know. I'm fine, really. Bad day at work, I guess. I'm just really glad to know that you are alive."

I could almost _hear _him quirk an eyebrow. "Er… well… okay. I'm glad you're alive, too."

"Okay. Okay, right. Well. Uh… goodbye."

"Bye."

I hung up the phone and pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes. I felt… well, I suppose the right word is '_overwhelmed'_. I needed… _something_… but I could not figure out what.

Maybe I could figure it out when my head had cleared.

I decided to sleep on it.


	10. Chapter 10

**Christine**

I am not really sure what point I fell asleep that night. I seemed to just… ease into it. This unnerved me more than you'd expect; it meant I did not know if the events of the night were real or if I dreamed them.

I was sitting up--which I realize is not really conducive to sleeping, but neither is the death of a friend, so it's all a matter of perspective--and staring out the window.

Suddenly I heard a sigh, and I turned around to see the figure of a young man, seated with his back leaning against my door frame. He was covered from head to toe, right down to the dusty, black wrap around his head that covered everything but his eyes. He looked like one of those desert nomads I have seen in books--covered in cloth designed to protect from the sun, rather than the heat.

Perhaps it truly was a dream, because the sight of this person in my room didn't scare me. I felt more curious than anything else. And I felt pain… like it was a distant pain that wasn't my own. That was rather odd.

Or perhaps it was his age that kept me at ease. Even folded up like he was, I could tell he was tall. But something about his mannerisms told me that he was not a grown man. If I had to guess, I'd say he was about fifteen.

After a few moments of my staring and his sighing, he rested his head against his knees and I could see his shoulders shaking.

"What's wrong?" I asked, feeling suspiciously like the girl from Peter Pan. _Boy, why are you crying?_

His head snapped up and he hastily wiped his eyes and coughed. I turned away--I figured it was the polite thing to do, since he obviously did not want me to know he was crying. Poor kid.

"Nothing… I am just tired."

That is totally the typical answer someone gives when they don't want to tell someone what's wrong, have you noticed? Maybe it's because an upset face and a tired face look similar.

"Oh… ah… well, do you want to tell me about it?" I asked awkwardly.

He shrugged more elegantly than I ever imagined a person could shrug. "Tired of searching, tired of wandering."

"_What is it you seek?" _I started to ask. I had a split second flashback when I thought of the little boy in my dream who said that same thing just before showing me a murdered Raoul. I shuddered and, at the last moment, changed my question. "How long have you been at it?"

"Three… maybe four years. Even more if you count… well… it seems like it's been forever."

I sat there uncomfortably. I really did not know what to say in response. Before I could react, the young man had slipped a thin rope out from inside his sleeve and flung it toward me. I gasped, but the rope managed not to touch me and, instead, lassoed the stuffed bear off my pillow. With a sharp tug, he had it in his hands, all the way across the room.

Turning it over and over, he examined it. "I never had toys like this," he said absently. When he looked back up at me, his eyes were displaying an emotion I could not exactly decipher. I wondered if he would cry again.

"You know, it makes me feel so much better… just to be near you. It hurts, indescribably, to be ripped in half like I am. But every time I see you, I have hope again."

Those words bothered me. What did he mean--ripped in half? Furthermore, I do not believe I had met him before. At least, not like this. He did remind me of the child in the forest… but, this was different. There was not the surreal aspect. We were just sitting in my room, talking like regular people. Call me suspicious, but it made me have a quick glance out the window, half expecting to see a dead body or bloody writing or something equally shocking.

"Do you think you will ever forgive me, angel?" That was another thing. In all these dreams--fantasies, hallucinations, whatever you call them--I was being called 'angel'. Does that seem weird, to you? I thought maybe that creepy voice I had heard a few nights ago at work had stuck in my subconscious and I kept remembering the word in my dreams.

"Forgive you?" I asked, giving another cautionary look out the window. "For what?"

"For all the bad things I have done. For the bad things I am about to do."

I stammered, "W-what?"

"I cannot help it. Not until I find what I am looking for. And even then…"

His words bothered me. A lot. I forced him to make eye contact spoke slowly and firmly--I tried to imitate that voice that teachers sometimes use to intimidate kids into telling the truth. "Look at me. Answer me… what are you about to do? What bad things are you talking about?"

"Will you fix me?" he asked, ignoring my demand entirely. He wrung his hands, looking lost. "When I find you, will you give it back?"

"Give what back? What are you talking about? Listen… you need to tell me what bad things you are planning."

"I have to go now. Please keep it safe for me."

"Keep what safe? Wait! Don't go! Answer me!"

"Goodbye, angel."

He stood up gracefully and gave me a low bow. Then I saw a cloud of mist and leaves and, just like that, he was gone.

The rest of the night was uneventful. I continued to dream, but they were the normal sort of dreams--you know, like dozens of orange bunny rabbits trying to eat all of Grandma's apple pies, or some other such nonsense. And none of them took place in my room… so I was left seriously wondering--and worrying--if my encounter with the desert boy was a dream or vision.

Although, I was beginning to wonder if it mattered… maybe these were signs that I was losing it. Maybe Joe was right about the Snowdrop Institute being the kind of place that messes with your mind.

--

I seriously wanted to take the next day off. I could call in sick, or something. It should have been believable, I had just seen a friend--or at least, and acquaintance--dragged away in a body bag. That entitled me to take a personal health day, right?

Wrong.

Turns out, Joe was a pretty popular guy, and there were dozens of people who were closer to him than I was. And… well… pretty much all of them called in sick. And Meg--poor Meg--she quit working there entirely.

So it is no surprise that, when I called, the lady I talked to (whoever was sitting in for Mrs. Giry, who had stayed home to comfort her daughter) insisted that I come in. And work overtime! How fair is that? Grr.

I guess it makes sense. I mean, it's not a business where you can just close down for a few days. There are still patients and they still need to eat and stay active and get better. But, that is one of those thoughts that sounds nice in theory but does nothing to improve your attitude when _you _are the one that has to put it into action.

And so I engaged in something of a silent protest by doing all the jobs that allowed me to avoid talking to people. I spent a good hour and a half peeling carrots in the kitchen and then toddled off to the laundry room to fold towels and sheets.

I had to do some cleaning in the high security ward, that day. Not the individual rooms, thankfully, just the corridor. There wasn't too much traffic in and out of there, so those floors didn't see a mop or broom all too often.

My work in there was surprisingly peaceful. There were no power outages, no lockdowns, no eerie voices and the speaker hadn't been left on this time so there were no dangerous lunatics trying to charm me into unlocking the door. As nervous as I was going in… I was almost starting to enjoy it as time went by. It was quiet and private.

After I cleaned the floors, I began wiping down the doors and windows. That was a little unnerving, I'll admit. While I was mopping, I could focus on the floor and easily forget that I was surrounded by people. Scary people. But, as I cleaned the windows, I could no longer ignore the fact that there were only a few inches of glass and steel separating me from serious harm--if Joe's tales were correct.

And, really, have you ever tried to wash a window without looking through it? It can't be done. And the temptation was too great not to look around in each cell, silently observing what the patients were doing. It was nothing spectacular, I saw people talking to themselves or rocking back and forth--nothing you wouldn't see in any other patient. I remembered the cell I saw on my tour, where the seemingly harmless patient transformed into that raving maniac that attacked the door. I kept that as a reminder not to be deceived by their apparently pitiful states.

But, still, it was hard not to feel bad for the men and women in this ward. What had they done that caused the System to wash its hands of them?

I avoided Cell 13 at first. Nobody would fault me for 'forgetting' to wipe down that window. But I have some innate compulsion in me that can't handle seeing an area that is sparkling clean in every way… except for one dirty window. So I took a breath, picked up my spray bottle, and went for it.

I peeked inside and my heart changed pace for a bit.

I expected Erik to look up at me. I mean, I know he couldn't see me through the glass so it really was a rather irrational thing to expect. But, before, it seemed like he was able to detect my presence--like when I was touring the ward for the first time and he seemed like he was looking right at me. Perhaps I had merely imagined it.

Since he did not immediately look up or--in the case of yesterday--start talking to me, I got a chance to actually get a good look at him. He was wearing a patient uniform of the long-sleeved variety; it was tattered at the ends and hung off him in a way that suggested that he was either painfully thin, or had been given a mismatched set of clothing. I suspected it was both. What did strike me as odd was that he was wearing both gloves and shoes. Not hospital slippers, but actual shoes, like you would wear outside. I suppose, if his introduction to this place was as violent as Joe said, they might have given up trying to wrestle those things away from him and simply tossed him in the cell--like what happened with the mask. I wouldn't be surprised, anyway.

The mask did not bother me as much as you'd expect. It was white and had little designs painted on it--like it was trying to look sinister on purpose--and covered everything but the lower part of his jaw. If anything, I suppose it just added to the overall mystery that seemed to follow him around.

I think what bothered me the most at that moment was Erik's demeanor. He was hunched over against his bed, almost as if he was praying--but the posture looked painful. His fingers gripped into his scalp, grasping at the thin wisps of hair on his head until tiny drops of blood escaped. His neck was the only skin uncovered, except for the back of his head, but I could see the muscles there tense and pull. He was curled in on himself, and yet had this look of being stretched so tightly that he'd snap if you touched him.

And, I couldn't help it, but I was worried about him.

Without thinking about it too seriously, I clicked on the speaker. "Excuse me… um… Erik? Are you okay?"

I watched his head shoot up, and his eyes settle on me in a way that I found all too familiar. Then he took a deep breath--as if he hadn't had one in a while--and the tension in his body seemed to dissipate.

He stood up with a sigh. "Forgive me. I… I suffer from nightmares on occasion. I hope I did not disturb you."

"No, I just… Nightmares? Really? I heard a rumor that you never slept."

He snorted. "Ah. Rumors. From the dead man, I imagine. How is he by the way?" And there it was. We went from polite to creepy in four seconds flat.

"Joe?" I answered awkwardly, "Well… he's… um… _dead_."

He clucked his tongue. "I suspected as much. That _is _unfortunate. How are you feeling? You two seemed close."

"We weren't, really," I admitted. Why was I telling him this? I shouldn't have even been talking to him in the first place, and here I was unloading on him, like we were friends or something. He seemed so sympathetic. His eyes were kind, like he honestly wanted to hear what I was saying. "It's just weird, you know? Like… one day he was here and then the next, he just wasn't. I just never expected something like this to happen."

"Sometimes," he said slowly, "life can be a wicked thing--hurling at us the unexpected for no reason other than it _can_."

"I suppose so. But---"

With blinding abruptness, he changed the subject. "Christine," he asked, "why don't you sing anymore?"

I swallowed. "H-how did you---"

"I know many things, Christine. But you are not answering my question."

"I just… I can't."

"Is it because of your father?"

I choked. Something in his voice changed and his eyes sharpened like he was trying to stare straight through me.

"You know _nothing _about my father," I hissed, trying to sound fierce in spite of my growing apprehension. To my horror, he chuckled.

"But I do, Christine! I know so many things about you."

"But how? How could you possibly---" No. I was just being paranoid. He was guessing. I have heard of people who can read people's faces… like they pretend to be psychics but they're really just good guessers. He had to be bluffing.

"'_Mommy left and forgot to take her body with her._' Isn't that what you told your father when he came home _that day_? And isn't it what you explained to the social worker when your father broke down from grief and you had to stay in foster care for three months? Is that what happened, Christine, or do you still think I am _bluffing_?"

An image flicked through my mind of a memory I had forgotten I had. My father changed the day my mother passed away. He had been at work while Mom stayed home with me--I think I was two or three at the time. She had some sort of aneurism in her brain that killed her rather quickly. All I knew was that she had a headache and then she just… went away. Dad didn't even know there was anything wrong until he got home that evening and found us there.

I can't imagine what that must have been like for him. He never spoke much about that time in our life… and he used to get upset if I brought it up. So I just, sort of… pretended it didn't happen.

So how would _he _know about that?

I don't suppose that any reaction on my part would make much sense to you. How could it? I mean, what is the protocol when you find that a stranger--an insane stranger--knows things about you that you, yourself, never knew?

So I didn't say anything. Nothing at all.

I just ran.

I deliberately slowed when I reached the front desk. "Well, I'm off now Juliette," I said casually. It was not quite time for me to go home… but she didn't know the schedule half as well as Mrs. Giry, so she never thought to question me.

I thought some fresh air would help. Maybe I could calm down long enough to realize that I had misunderstood something or that I made some of the conversation up in my imagination.

It did no good… I needed more. So I hopped in my car and drove off.

--

I drove aimlessly--and perhaps a little recklessly--for hours. I couldn't stop… didn't want to go home. I just needed to think.

He was playing with me. No… not playing _with _me… playing _me. _Like an instrument. He would use that sweet voice and those… blasted… eyes… of his to make me feel so comfortable. And then two seconds later he would do something… just… so… creepy. But then it was back to calming again just like that. It's like he was deliberately preventing me from deciding how I felt about him.

And how did he know all those things about me? Maybe he picked something up from Dr. Moncharmin? But, then that would beg the question of how _he _would have known those things, since that's not really the kind of stuff you'd find in an employee file--even at a place like Snowdrop.

And besides that… how did he know I thought he was bluffing? I _know _I didn't say that out loud.

By the time I really looked at my surroundings, it was pretty dark. I was still in the city, but the streets were surprisingly deserted. Then--if you can believe this--my car started making funny sounds. I pulled into the empty parking lot of a closed down shop just seconds before my poor vehicle rolled to a stop and died.

Sounds like a bad horror movie, doesn't it? Well, go ahead and laugh, because that is what happened and it was absolutely _not _funny at the time.

I jumped out and went to the front of the car. I did not know the first thing about automobiles. By that I mean to say that I do not even know where they hid the little switch thingy that opens the hood up. So after four or five minutes of useless hunting, I… well… let's just say I didn't handle my frustrations in the most adult fashion.

"I hate you! Stupid car!" I screamed, kicking at the tires. "Why won't you work?"

When, in all of my brilliance, I smacked the top of the car, I was suddenly reminded of my previous injuries as pain shot straight up through my sprained wrist. It was never going to get better if I kept treating it so badly.

The physical pain, though, changed my attitude somewhat--or at least helped me focus it. I was in this strange situation and I didn't know what to do. Of course I didn't know what to do--I never had to learned! My dad was always there to fix these sorts of things and… well, we both just assumed he'd be around forever.

Suddenly I started sobbing against the side of the car that I had been abusing a few seconds earlier. "Oh daddy… why aren't you here. It hurts so much."

He did not answer--which was to be expected--but _someone _did. I could feel a presence behind me, like a solid wall that kept moving closer until I had that claustrophobic feeling as if I was trapped against the driver's side car door.

"W-who are you?" I stuttered. Whatever this… presence… was… it was too close. My head was spinning as if I couldn't get enough oxygen to my brain.

"Oh angel," a voice said, sounding sad, "it hurts me to see you in pain."

A hand fell on my injured shoulder and he began to knead it. It did not hurt like it usually does when someone presses down on a bruise. Instead it felt… wonderful. A warm sensation that I cannot describe--more pleasurable than anything I had ever experienced… than I ever thought possible.

"Does it feel good, angel mine?" the voice said softly. It--_he_--was so close, I could feel him nuzzling my hair. "This is how a mere glimpse of you makes me feel. Complete. You drive away the darkness that encompasses the… other half of me."

Then he took my bruised and swollen wrist. "I knew it was you from the moment I met you," he said, bringing the appendage up to his mouth. His other hand was still kneading my shoulder, and I could not summon the will to break away. "You are the one I have been searching for. I can tell by your scent… your taste…" He held my wrist and sniffed it… licked it… traced the blue veins with the tip of his tongue. "So many years…"

"Who are you?" I asked again when I finally had the coherency to do so. "Who do you think _I _am?"

Suddenly he spun me around. I knew I was facing him… but I could not make out any features. Just that terrifying, beautiful voice… the same voice that threatened me so possessively during the blackout at work.

"Do you have it still?" he asked. "My soul… have you kept it safe for me?"

"L-listen… I… I don't know who you think you are. But this is illegal. Get off of me or I'll call the police!"

I heard dark laughter, but he did let me go, which was the important part, I suppose. I didn't bother looking back as I hurled myself into the car and locked all the doors. When I turned on the headlights, I saw that I was completely alone. That… really did not surprise me, all things considered. But it didn't mean I was about to put my guard down.

Just as I was about to drive off, I heard a voice in my left ear. _"You can't run, Christine…"_

"The hell I can't!" I screamed into the nothingness. Then, with a horrid screech, I peeled out of the vacant parking lot and sped off in the opposite direction from which I came.

I was going to see Raoul.


	11. Chapter 11

**Christine**

"Wait, hold up a second. How did you drive away if your car was broken down?"

"After what I just told you, _that _is the part you get hung up on?"

"I'm just saying that this whole thing seems a little weird."

"I know! That's what _I've _been saying this whole time!" I should not have been so snippy with Raoul; he was only trying to help. But I was getting a little exasperated. I was still shaken from my parking lot encounter, and the fact that I was having trouble explaining it was frustrating.

"Okay, okay… calm down, Christine. It's not me you're upset with." I wanted to growl. I mean, it was true, but that was kind of an arrogant thing to say, don't you think? "Lets go back to part where the man accosted you."

"But that's just the thing… it wasn't a _man_. It was more like… a _presence. _Don't look at me like that! I told you this was weird."

"Yeah you said that. You said he touched you and spoke to you. How can you say this wasn't a person? Maybe it was just too dark to see him."

"No, that's not it. It's not just that I couldn't see him… I couldn't… there was no scent, either, no temperature or-- Look, I can't really explain it. It's just this feeling I had… like he wasn't exactly _real_."

"And you said this has happened before?"

"Yes, sort of. It was my second day of work--the day you and I met and had coffee. Meg was telling me about how I needed to get out and meet some guys and the lights went out and I heard this voice saying that I shouldn't listen to her advice."

"But you saw a door left open, right?"

"Y-yes…"

"Are you sure? You don't seem sure."

"Well… I thought it was. Maybe I… I don't know…" I was second guessing myself. Looking back on it, I realize that I should have gone with my gut and treated this more seriously. Instead I let him talk me out of believing myself. Not that I blame him… it did sound rather fantastic. He was, no doubt, having even more trouble making sense of it than I was.

"Maybe your friend was right about Snowdrop messing with your head. I mean, you've got to be pretty screwed up to commit suicide like he did."

"Raoul! Don't say that!" I felt like he was insulting Joe. Whatever was going on in his life… well, that didn't mean he should have done that… but that still doesn't mean we should go around bad-mouthing his memory. He was a good guy.

"Christine! Relax, okay? Sorry. I didn't mean to offend you. I'm just saying that… well… has it occurred to you that this might not be the right job for you? You're a musician after all---"

"No. I'm not."

He sighed. "Fine, whatever. But that still doesn't mean you should be working in a mental institution. You've been tired and jumpy since you started there--you said so yourself. Maybe you should go someplace less stressful."

That honestly hadn't occurred to me. I mean, I knew I might have picked the wrong job… but it never once crossed my mind that I could just… quit. And why not? I was just a temp, after all, just for the summer. I bet I could leave whenever I wanted. Right?

Maybe because a part of me was feeling guilt from having given up on my singing. I didn't want to make a habit of being a quitter.

But this was totally different. I had no ties to this job--I hadn't even been working there that long. I needed the money, but I had enough tucked away to hold me off until I found something else. Besides, I never signed up for funny dreams and parking lot hallucinations.

_If that's what it was._

But there I was second guessing myself again. Raoul had a point.

"I guess you may be right. I think I might actually do that." I looked at my watch--it was getting pretty late.

"Hey, do you mind if I crash on your couch tonight?" I asked.

He gave me this indulgent grin. "What are you, sixteen? We're adults now… let me take you to the guest room."

So I was feeling kind of silly as I let him take my elbow and lead me down the hall. Raoul was… well, I don't know how to classify him. He made me feel safe and stupid at the same time. It seemed like every time he spoke, my answer was 'Gee, I hadn't thought of that.' But he did assuage my fears--even making me feel ridiculous for having had them in the first place--so, I felt like I should trust him.

--

I had a blessedly dream-free night at Raoul's apartment. That alone was rather enlightening. I had never really lived on my own before. I lived with my dad during the summer and spent the school year with a dorm full of girls. But now it was just me, all alone in a house with a lot of memories.

I wondered if I shouldn't start looking for a roommate. Or at least a pet. I'd always wanted a dog. I decided to think on it.

In the meantime, it was time to go visit the hospital. I had the day off (finally! This was the longest week of my life!) but I wasn't so sure I wanted to return. Today would be a good day to put in my resignation… that way it wouldn't seem like I was putting them in a bind by walking out. It wasn't like it was _their _fault the place was giving me the heebie-jeebies.

The funny thing is--as I drove away from Raoul's house, I found myself having second thoughts. I think it was Erik. The guy scared the living daylights out of me… but I couldn't help but feel this odd sort of kinship with him. Especially after he confessed to having nightmares.

Don't judge me--I can't explain it either. It's just some small part of me was so curious what his dreams were about.

And how egocentric is that? I mean, seriously! I really had no right--and no reason--to believe his nightmares had anything to do with me! It was ninety-nine percent more likely that it was a coincidence.

But I was curious, nonetheless.

Then again, that wasn't a good enough reason to stay. Raoul had spoken a lot of sense. My own feelings… well, that's all they were: feelings. Feelings change all the time, don't they? No, the smart thing to do would be to listen to Raoul's advice.

--

Well… I _tried _to, at any rate.

"Look, Dr. Moncharmin… I don't mean to be a pain. I just… I just don't think this is the right place for me to be right now. I'm not trying to leave you in a lurch or something."

Dr. Moncharmin looked stern. I hate getting that look. It's that look that inspires instant obedience from small children.

I felt a lot like a small child lately.

"Well that's just it, Miss Daae," he said irritably, "you _are _leaving us in a lurch. When we hired you, it was with the understanding that you were a responsible young woman who would not just… flake out at a moment's notice. Have we underestimated you so much?"

"No… I mean… no, of course not. But after this thing with Joe--"

"Do you think you were the only one effected by Mr. Buquet's accident? Do you think so highly of yourself that you consider your pain greater than everyone else's? I am very disappointed in you."

"But you don't understand!"

"No _you _don't understand. Remember the contract you signed? That was a legal document. You cannot simply quit whenever you feel like it. I suggest you go home, enjoy your day off, and forget this conversation ever took place. Understand?"

"I… ah… yes, sir?" My flustered reply ended up sounding more like a question than anything else.

He nodded and strolled down the hall. I stood there for a while, feeling rather ashamed of myself.

_If _I had been thinking properly, it would have occurred to me that indeed I signed no such document. I mean, honestly! How many summer-hires sign _contracts_?

But Dr. Moncharmin is a very convincing man. He is the kind of guy who is so very confident in whatever he is saying that you feel stupid for not agreeing.

I did not like him very much.

Dr. Richard, on the other hand, would be much more likely to listen to me. He just had this kind, disarming way about him. I should have spoken to him in the first place. Maybe I could go and resign with _him_ before Dr. Moncharmin finds out about it.

--

When I reached Dr. Richard's office, I saw that Dr. Moncharmin was already there. I huffed. How utterly frustrating. But I still wanted to speak with him. If they wouldn't let me quit, maybe they could transfer me to another department. Dr. Richard could do that, I think. Maybe he could move me to the main hospital--I think I would do well in the pediatric ward. Or anywhere, really… doing laundry in one ward is pretty much the same as any other. Right? It couldn't be too much trouble for them to find a less neurotic person to switch places with me.

So I decided to patiently wait outside his office, hoping to catch a minute of his time after the other doctor was finished.

I didn't mean to eavesdrop. Well… maybe I did. But you can't really blame me; I was bored and they left the door open a crack. It's their own fault, really. You should be more cautious with the door stops if you are going to have a sensitive conversation. Dr. Richard can be scatterbrained like that.

Dr. Moncharmin was the first to speak. "Have you read the coroner's report?"

"Should I? He hung himself."

"Yes that's what it looked like, didn't it? But the medical examiner said that Buquet was dead _before _he was strung up."

"_What?_"

"There's more. It seems they can't seem to find a cause for his demise. No trauma or disease. Not a mark on him, inside or out. It was as if he just… stopped living."

I heard a gasp, and the flipping of pages.

"Do you think it could be happening again?" That was Dr. Richard's voice, I could tell. But I was not used to hearing him sound so distressed.

"I don't know. I can only hope that is not the case."

"What should we do now? And what about… _him_?"

"I agree… we need to stop this before it gets out of hand."

"Out of hand? A man has _died_!"

"Yes… _one man_. And we want to keep it that way."

"So what do we do?"

More shuffling… as if someone was rooting through a bag.

"Start putting this in his food. See if we can get him to confess anything."

"And Miss Daae? Should we have her transferred?"

"NO! No… we can't do that."

"Why in the world not?"

"_He _forbids it."

"Oh and we work for _him _now? What about that poor girl? You know she isn't safe there."

"I think that is the safest place for her to be… for all of us. We don't want to underestimate this."

"So you'll sacrifice an innocent girl?"

"Who says it will be a sacrifice? How very melodramatic of you. We might be making this into something that it's not. But you can't ignore the calming effect she has on the patients in the high security ward--not just number thirteen. The best thing we can do right now is leave everyone exactly where they are. If something inappropriate happens… well, we'll just have to cross that bridge when we get there."

"I still don't like it," Dr. Richard began. Then a pager went off and he cursed quietly. "I have to go. But this conversation is _not _over."

I ducked around a corner when Dr. Richard came storming out with Dr. Moncharmin on his heels. The last thing I needed right now was to be caught spying.

I left the hospital with a scowl on my face. Apparently there was more to this situation than was being let on. Worse, it would seem I was in deeper than I thought.

Was I in trouble, somehow?


	12. Chapter 12

**Christine**

I had no more dreams the two nights following my denied resignation. No dreams at all, actually. Not even the stupid kind. Just blackness and this overwhelming feeling of loneliness and despair. I know it sounds strange, but I think I would have welcomed it if the teenager had come to see me again. I _might _have even welcomed the creepy little boy--if he behaved himself--if it meant I didn't have to face the darkness alone.

I hate being alone.

So, I woke up depressed after my weekend off. And I didn't even have time for a pity party, because I had to go to work.

_But at least I'll get to see Erik…_

Wait, where had that idea come from? When had I stopped being terrified to pass Cell 13?

The thing was that I was _still _terrified of him. But I was drawn to him nonetheless… like the way you're drawn to a rollercoaster or horror movie.

I know why that was, too. I could blame those visions. They scared me more than anything had ever scared me before. But they weren't _real_… so I had no right to be afraid, right? No one would understand a true fear that came out of nowhere. I could be afraid of the dark, afraid of strangers, afraid of loneliness… but I could not be afraid of a shadow man that existed only to me.

But _Erik_… he was real. He was not made of shadows and imagination. He was solid and human and I was _supposed _to be frightened of him. Even if I had bad dreams about _him_, at least they would be grounded in reality. Not some imaginary child pretending to kill my friend.

As sick as it is, I wanted to cling to a physical fear rather than an imaginary one. I wanted to be near him. Because to do so felt… normal.

--

"Christine," a pleasant voice said. Say what you like about Erik, but no one can deny that he has a beautiful voice. I wondered for a brief moment if he sang at all. But I quickly squashed that thought--I no longer cared about that sort of thing.

"Hi," I answered. I wasn't quite sure how to feel about him… but he was being polite so I might as well return the favor.

"I am glad to see you have returned." Goodness. The sincerity in his voice made me feel a little awkward, to be honest. We weren't friends. Was he so starved for attention that he would sound so delighted at hearing the word 'Hi'?

"Why do you always sound surprised when I come here?" I had to know.

"Because you are always so eager to leave."

_That is because, every time I think you can't get weirder… you surprise me with something creepy. _"Oh. Ah… sorry?"

"No, Christine… it is I who should apologize. I should not have said those things to you earlier. I frightened you, which was not my intent."

"You did frighten me," I admitted, trying not to feel bad at the crestfallen way his body slumped at my answer. "How did you know all of those things about me? We don't know each other. How could you know that I was a singer and how could you know…" I trailed off and swallowed hard. I couldn't bring myself to speak of the other matters he had brought up. I hadn't spoken of my parents in… I just hadn't, okay?

His voice all but purred, and I felt a calming sensation in my chest. "I could tell you sang by your voice, and by your posture. As for the rest… I overheard some of the doctors reading over your file. Perhaps someone left the speaker on again, hmm?"

He was lying. Somewhere in my subconscious, I knew he was lying. But he was lying so _nicely. _ His voice was so soft and familiar--like a favorite sweater. I found myself believing every word. _Of course _it made sense that he would recognize a singer by her speech_. Of course _he must have overheard something. How could a voice so beautiful speak anything other than the perfect truth?

In a voice that almost seemed to calm to be my own, I answered, "That makes sense, Erik. Thank you for explaining. I was wrong to be afraid."

"You are forgiven, child," he answered. And then there was silence.

As the silence continued, my mind cleared. After a few moments, I shook my head and smiled rather sheepishly. "Sorry, I guess I spaced out there for a minute. What were we talking about?"

"You were about to tell me what you were doing while you were avoiding me."

"I don't live here, you know," I snapped, "Just because I had days off didn't mean I was 'avoiding you'."

He chuckled. Why was he always _toying_ with me? "Forgive me. Then, may I ask… what were you doing on your 'days off'?"

"Not that it's any of your business… but I visited a friend."

Even through his ill-fitting uniform, I could see that every muscle in his body tensed. His eyes actually _glowed_. "A friend?"

"Yes. An old boyfriend from high school, actually. He's moved back into town recently."

Immediately he responded, surprising me by the venom in his voice. "You should stay away from him, Christine."

"Why would I do that?" I asked, defensive.

"He will ruin your music."

Now it was my turn to tense up. Why did he have to return to the topic of _music_? He knew that I had stopped singing. Why couldn't he just drop it?

My initial instinct was to leave, as it is whenever somebody mentioned a touchy subject like this. But Erik's comment earlier, about me always running from him, nicked at my pride and I felt determined to prove him wrong. Besides, I realized I had yet to offer him his dinner.

"I brought your supper, Erik."

"Thank you for offering, my dear, but I shall have to decline."

I remembered something in his chart that indicated that he'd refused breakfast that morning as well. "Aren't you hungry?" I asked.

"Quite."

"Then why are you refusing to eat?" I found myself getting upset for him. Occasionally patients went on hunger strikes or experienced some mental delusion that made them refuse to eat anything. The hospital had ways of dealing with those instances, whether it be calling in a psychologist to coerce them to eat or getting a doctor to change their medications.

But, the patients of this ward were different. The staff was under specific directions not to interfere with anything that occurred here. If a patient did not eat--they died, pure and simple.

I tried not to think about things like that. And luckily the situation never really came up. Until now.

Erik answered, "They put a chemical in my food, to make me sick. They are trying to force a confession out of me."

His answer sort of made my stomach twist. If this was any other patient… or if this happened at any other time, I would have to believe he was delusional. But… I remembered the conversation I'd overheard the other day. I remembered what Dr. Moncharmin said as he gave that jar to Dr. Richard. _"Start putting this in his food. See if we can get him to confess anything."._

What Erik was saying might _sound _crazy… but it wasn't. After everything I had heard--I was inclined to believe him.

"What do they want you to confess to?"

"They think I might know something about that orderly's suicide. They believe I may have something to do with it."

"Do you?" I asked. It was a stupid question. Even if the coroner's was correct--that he was, in fact, dead before the hanging--that didn't have anything to do with Erik.

I have never seen a glare like the glare Erik gave me when I asked that question. His eyes looked like they were on fire… for a minute it even looked like they flashed _red_.

"Leave, Christine. We are finished here."

I ignored him at first. I couldn't look away from him. Those _eyes_.

"I said LEAVE!" he repeated, and snapped me right out of my fascination. He was angry. He was locked up… logically I knew I had nothing to worry about. But his anger made him seem so… _powerful_.

I wanted to. Leave, that is. But I couldn't. Heaven help me, but I was _worried _about him.

"When was the last time you've eaten, Erik?"

Well _that _took the wind out of his sails. Half a second later he was completely calm and had his head slightly tilted in curiosity.

"When was the last time you were here?" he countered.

"It's been _three days_?"

He shrugged, as if none of this was a big deal. "What would you have me do, Christine?" he asked. "I recognized the tainted food from… the times before. I assure you it is not an experience I wish to repeat."

"This has happened before?"

He shrugged again. I was becoming increasingly more horrified as this conversation continued. Only, for once, I was not afraid _of _Erik, but _for_ him.

"Do not forget who… _what_… I am, dear girl." He snorted in amusement. "Or _where _I am, for that matter. Due process is something of a myth down here."

Well. How do you respond to _that_? Surely not the way I answered it. _Definitely _not the way I answered it.

"I brought an extra sandwich today. Do you like peanut butter and banana?"

"HA!" he barked out. "Oh child! Having a conversation with the Devil is bad enough… you want to bring him a _sandwich_? Does your pity know no bounds?"

"You're not the Devil," I said, but it really didn't sound as confident as I'd planned. He… _really _freaked me out. But that didn't change the fact that what the hospital was doing to him was appalling

He had a beautiful laugh, when it was sincere. I was almost sad when it slowly came to an end.

"You would do this for me?" he asked, after a time. "You would be breaking many rules. You could lose your job."

This time _I _shrugged. "I guess that's alright. They wouldn't let me quit when I tried to. It's no great loss to me if I get fired."

"But it would be a great loss to _me_," he whispered. He said the words so quietly, I am surprised I could hear it. _Those speakers much be really sensitive_, I thought. It sounded like he was talking right in my ear!

I found myself shuffling nervously. "So… is that a 'no' then?"

"Would you… stay with me?" he sounded so vulnerable… it overrode my initial hesitation to… ah… hang out with a psychopath.

"Yeah, I guess…"

"Then I accept."

"Really? Then… oh… well, okay then. I guess I'll… ah… well I'll be right back. Hang on."

"I'll… be right here."

And that is the story of how I came to have lunch with the most dangerous man the world has ever known.


	13. Chapter 13

**This chapter is really more of a continuation of the last chapter. In retrospect, I probably should have stuck them together. But... oh well... here it is now. **

**Oh, and I think I mentioned this in the first chapter but, for those of you who were wondering: yes, this story is inspired by **_**Der Erlkönig**_** _(The Erlking), _a poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, but probably more recognized as the song by Franz Schubert. If you wish to read it, you will find the English translation on my profile page.  
**

**Thanks for reading. -G-**

* * *

**Christine**

I hurried back--did you hear that? I _hurried _back to that madman. I was actually excited--like sharing a meal was a great adventure. Well, I guess it sort of was, in a sense.

"Erik! I'm back."

"Excellent. I was starting to get worried. I thought I'd frightened you off again."

I vacillated between sheepish and indignant. I think I ended up with some bizarre combination of the two. "Well, it's not like it was _easy_. How suspicious does it look for me to announce my lunch break and then head straight into the high security ward? I was trying to be inconspicuous."

"I thought you said this job did not matter to you?"

It was true… but, as I said, I was kind of excited for this. I've never been much of a rule breaker; I never realized just how fun it could be!

"I just don't like getting yelled at," I answered. Also true.

"Well I am grateful for the risk then."

I blushed and opened the little slot at the bottom of the door. As I handed over the sandwich, our fingertips brushed. I gasped. Suddenly I felt this rush of something, as if a soft wave had rolled over me. What was it? It wasn't some spark of intense feeling like you'd hear about in movies. No… if I had to associate it with something, I'd say it's the feeling you get when you're halfway home after an extended absence--longing coupled with relief.

At that moment, I would have given anything for him to touch me again, without the gloves.

But he pulled his hand away all too soon, and so I settled on the ground, leaning my back against the door. We couldn't see each other, but I sensed he was doing the same. It felt nice. Sitting back to back on opposite sides of the door seemed to appease the pull I was feeling towards him.

"Christine," he said, his voice once again sounding right by my ear.

I was not sure whether he was trying to get my attention… or just saying my name for the heck of it. It sounded like the latter--but that thought was a little odd. So I answered. "Yes?"

"Why have you abandoned your music?"

I shuffled where I was sitting, but couldn't bring myself to move away from the door. I pretended to be in-between bites so that I had time to think.

"You will not be permitted to stall forever. Eventually you will have to answer."

"Says who?" I snapped, bristling. Who was he to tell me what to do? But then I took a deep breath and calmed myself. If he wasn't going to drop it, I might as well know why. "Why do you want to know so badly?"

"Because I sense great potential in you. And I sense a passion in you. You were born to sing, Christine. Do you not feel it there, tugging at you? If you ignore both your passion and your potential… Christine, I fear you will break."

"Break?" I snorted, "That's rather melodramatic, don't you think?"

"You avoid my question. Why?"

"It's… hard. It's not something I like to talk about. It… it hurts, you know?"

"Dear girl. Pain is a necessary part of life."

"You've had much experience with it, then?"

"More than you could possibly know."

We sat in silence for a time. His words affected me, and I found myself swallowing back tears. I sniffed, as quietly as I could, but apparently he still figured it out. He stood quickly and pressed his hands against the glass window.

"Oh Christine! I did not mean to make you cry! Please don't cry… Erik is sorry. Erik is so sorry! Please, Christine…"

"No… no, Erik… it's fine. It's not you, really. I just… I guess when I talk to you, it seems like my problems are so stupid." And it was stupid. Just like all those imaginary fears were stupid. Just like---

"Christine," he said gently--so gently--interrupting my thoughts. "Nothing about you is stupid."

I shrugged, even though he probably couldn't see it from the angle he was at. He could think whatever he wanted. He was all locked up… abused… treated like an animal. For years and years! And who knew what happened to him before that!

And I was just… well, I should have been stronger.

"Sing for me, Christine," he said softly.

I stood up to face him, and then turned away when I realized I could not look at him. "I _can't_," I insisted.

"Then I shall sing for you."

Erik began to sing.

Spinning around in shock, I found myself connecting with a pair of glowing eyes that I could not look away from. He was singing a song that I hadn't heard in ages. To most people, it was just a silly little folk song that they wouldn't recognize. But it was more than that--my father wrote it. It was _our _song.

Even Raoul had never heard this song--just the story the accompanied it. It was about a little girl--Lotte--who was visited by an angel, who taught her all about the joys of music.

It was a duet--I would be the little girl, and Dad would sing the part of the angel. We used to sing it together before bed every night. And, now that my father was dead, I was the only living person on earth who knew that song.

Or so I thought.

It felt like a huge invasion of privacy, that he should know that… that secret. And yet, I could not bring myself to care. He put more emotion into the song--hope? joy?--than I had ever heard before… or even thought possible and… well, I found myself feeling really and truly happy. It was the first time I could even _think _of my father without a sense of unspeakable grief.

_Sing with me, _I heard a voice say--Erik's voice. Erik had not stopped singing, and yet I heard the voice speaking clear as day.

So I sang. I easily picked up the part of little Lotte, while Erik took my father's place as the Angel of Music.

"Christine?"

"Huh?"

"Is something wrong?"

I shut my eyes so I could concentrate better. We weren't singing anymore. Weren't we just singing? When did we stop singing?

I thought of a million intelligent questions, but once again settled on, "Huh?"

"You have been staring at me for several minutes."

"Oh."

"What is the matter?"

_Did I imagine it all?_

"I think… I think I might be hallucinating."

He tilted his head slightly. I gathered he must have worn that mask for a long time to be able to give off such an array of emotions without a single facial expression.

"You should not downplay your experiences so much, Christine," he said softly.

"Excuse me?" I was feeling very uncomfortable. I believe I had taken the easy companionship of our shared lunch for granted and now I was succumbing to the sheer strangeness of this place. This… person. What did he mean about 'downplaying my experiences'? If he only _knew _the 'experiences' I'd been having lately--the dreams, the visions--he wouldn't be acting all wise and dramatic. He'd be offering me a cell next to his.

_Not such a bad idea, now that I think of it…_

"I wish for you to return, Christine," he responded, disregarding my question completely.

Perhaps by now you have noticed the abrupt subject changes that Erik facilitates. It is his way, you see… his way of dominating the conversation. I may do most of the talking… but _he _is the one in control.

_He _is always in control. Of everything. And everyone.

"You mean… like tomorrow?" I asked, lamely.

His answer, "Yessss," came out like a hiss. His eyes were shut and head tilted back as if he had just tasted something wonderful. "Tomorrow. You will return and you will sing for me again."

I backed up and started clearing out the trash from our lunch. "Look, Erik, this is getting weird. I shouldn't be here _now_. I just… no promises, okay?"

He made a noncommittal noise, like he didn't really believe me, and turned around. The next time spoke, it was cold and businesslike--like I'd imagine he'd sound if he was speaking with Dr. Moncharmin. "You have a lovely voice, my dear, but we have much to work on. Your lessons will begin tomorrow. Goodnight, Christine."

I scurried out, not bothering to respond. It doesn't count as running away, right? He said 'goodbye'… that means nobody can accuse me of getting scared and running off.

I just… couldn't stay any longer. I know he was only asking for me to come back and sing for him sometime… but it felt so much more intense than that. Like, too much of a commitment. I couldn't promise to return.

As I completed my shift, I repeated it to myself. _I didn't promise anything. I can do what I want. I don't have to go back._

But, at the end of the day, when I left the building, a spear of nausea and biting cold passed through me, I knew the truth.

I would return.

Again and again. I would always return.

Because I no longer belonged to myself.


	14. Chapter 14

**Christine**

I had another nightmare that night, and I wanted to kick myself for taking those dream-free nights for granted. To think, I even believed I _missed _the dreams! I was so foolish. I should have enjoyed my nights of peace while they lasted.

I would not get any more for a long time.

Moments after I fell asleep, I found myself in a shadowy room, dimly lit with torches on the walls.

There was a man, hunched over his desk, scratching away at some parchment.

"I fear I have failed again, angel."

"What do you mean?" I inquired.

"I am tired. I do not know if I can continue my search much longer."

I was about to respond when he interrupted me with a humorless laugh. "Ha! If only it could be so easy! But you know as well as I do that giving up is not an option. But… perhaps a rest, hmm? How much longer can I be expected to keep this up? Eternity? Is that my fate? Maybe I should stop for now, gather my thoughts, and begin again in a few years."

Again, I opened my mouth to respond, when he turned his attention to the far corner of the room. "And what do you think, O Wise One? Does the Phantom deserve a little rest?"

I followed the man's gaze to the corner and gasped. Propped up against the wall was the disfigured shell of what was once a man. Beside him were a number of jars filled with fluid. In one, I saw the dead man's eyes, staring at me. In another floated an ear. Every one of his organs had its own jar, as did each set of fingers and toes. What remained of the man was dressed in a blue robe, with a jeweled staff resting mockingly in his fingerless hands.

"Are you mad?" I shrieked. This was far worse than _anything _my twisted imagination had dreamed thus far.

"No," he replied easily, "just angry. This was supposed to be a great sorcerer… the most powerful magician in this pitiful country. He said he could help me find what I was looking for, but he has failed. If he was so great a seer, he should have foreseen that I am not a forgiving man."

Then he turned to look at me with a blurred face and glowing eyes. "Do not look so alarmed, angel. Do you not know? I am doing this all for you."

I woke up screaming.

--

I managed to stay away from Erik for the majority of the next day. But then the guilt started nagging at me, that he wouldn't be able to eat anything if I didn't bring him something--I wondered how long the managers planned to keep up with this torture (because that's what is was, torture… poisoning a patient's food like that, starving him into compliance).

What's more, it was unlikely that _any _of the high security patients had been fed supper yet, since I'd avoided that ward entirely. I couldn't, in good conscience, ignore them any longer.

Besides that… the pull I described earlier was as difficult to ignore as the guilt was. It was a very physical thing--I felt cold and sick to my stomach and the feeling only got worse the longer I was away. It was as if there was some part of me that _had _to be close to him and was protesting the separation. But it wasn't an emotional protest--it quite literally _hurt_. Like I had an extra limb that was quite willing to detach itself and crawl back to him.

Enough with the bizarre similes, then. If you don't understand what I am talking about by now, I can't explain it any better. Besides, I've said stranger things already.

So, by the end of my shift, I found myself standing at Erik's door once again.

But, I have to tell you, that if it hadn't been for the guilt and threat of sickness, I would have scrambled out of there the second I entered the hallway.

The patients had gone… well, for lack of a better word… absolutely insane.

Every single one of them was in a state of utter terror. They pawed at the doors, pounded their heads into the floor, tore apart bed sheets, all the while screaming nonsense that I couldn't hear through the glass. I didn't manage to deliver a single tray of food; every time I opened a flap at the bottom of the door, one or both hands would shoot out of the opening, clawing at the ground, trying uselessly to escape that way.

This was happening in every cell… except one. In Cell 13 I found Erik, seated on his bed, singing quietly.

When I approached his window, his eyes lit up, and he came to greet me.

"Hello, Christine," he said, interrupting his song.

The hall went quiet. As suddenly as a person flipping a switch, every one of the patients stopped their tantrums and returned to their beds.

"What is going on in here?"

Erik's head tilted. "I have no idea what you are talking about, Christine."

"Everybody's going nuts… er… _was _going nuts. Tearing up their cells and whatnot. All except for you."

Yellow eyes narrowed. "Why, my dear, if I didn't know better I'd say you were accusing me of something."

"NO! Of course not… you probably weren't even aware of what was going on, huh? Soundproofed rooms and whatnot. It was just strange, that's all."

"I see," he answered noncommittally. "Well, it seems we are running late. Are you ready for your lesson?"

"N-no… I don't really want a lesson. But I thought I'd bring you something to eat."

"How very thoughtful of you, my dear," he said. He might have been being sarcastic… I'm not really sure. Regardless, I found myself grinning like an idiot.

"Oh! And I brought you something else, too!" I answered as I pulled a soft shirt from the corner of my cart. "I noticed your… ah… uniform… was a little frazzled." And shoddily sewn and badly fitting. He'd probably been given a wardrobe from the discarded pile--and that had been years ago. "So, I brought this for you. It's only the top part… that's all I could sneak out of the laundry room without being noticed. I'll bring the rest tomorrow."

With some effort--really those flaps were not intended to allow anything but food on special trays--I shoved the cloth through the small opening in the door. Erik received it on the other side and held it up in front of him.

His voice actually cracked a bit when he spoke. "Christine…" he whispered, "this is… _thank you_."

I shrugged and tried to contain the irrational extent to which his gratefulness pleased me.

"I figure _somebody_ ought to be on your side as long as you're in this awful place."

"But still… I…" he took a deep breath. "How about a song?"

That request was sort of uncomfortable. It was one thing when I was the one in charge, bringing him things, taking care of him, setting the pace and limits of how far I would allow our acquaintanceship to go… but he always seemed to turn every situation around so that _he _was the one in control. It made me feel so nervous.

Was I so weak that I let _everybody _push me around? Meg… Raoul… Moncharmin… and now this guy who was _in a cage_?

Apparently I was.

"Just for a minute or two. It's time for me to go home soon."

"A minute or two, then. Stand up straight. Excellent… now let's begin."

And so, that was how our lessons began. Every day I would come in--I varied the times so no one would become suspicious--and share a meal with Erik.

I would bring him something useful: soap that was not that horridly abrasive stuff they sent his way every couple of months, clean clothing or linens. Or personal: books, paper and pencils for drawing or composing, homemade cookies.

We would talk… about myself, mostly. I would tell him about my day or my life. He was an expert at eluding any questions aimed at _him_.

Then, when I could stall no longer, I would sing and he would train my voice.

However, when I first noticed that, over the course of weeks, a 'minute or two' became an 'hour or more', I realized that I may have gotten in over my head.

And then one day I noticed something… different.

"Erik?" I asked, after a rather tense lesson. "We have been speaking for a long time now, haven't we?"

"I suppose so," he answered. "At least a few hours, I think." Then, rather dangerously, he added, "Why? Is there some other engagement you are missing? Someone _else _you would rather be seeing?"

"Um… no I mean… like we've been talking like this for a couple of weeks now, right?"

"That is a rather odd question, is it not? May I ask where this is leading?"

I spoke slowly, staring intently at the light on the wall--the light that indicated the intercom system was active--which was currently unlit. "I was just wondering. How long has this been going on… with the speakers turned off?"

Oh yes. I was definitely in over my head.

--

I came home later to check my messages. When I saw how many there were, I was shocked… and I felt pretty bad. I had been neglecting my friends and not even realized it.

"_Hey Christine, this is Meg. I was just wondering if you wanted to come over. I know I haven't really been up to doing much lately… but I thought maybe we could make popcorn and put in a movie or something. Let me know what you think."_

"_Christine… uh… Hi. It's Raoul, if you haven't figured that out. Hehe… um… well, I haven't heard from you in awhile. I just wanted to check up on you and see how you are doing. And also, now that you've quit your job, I thought you might have some free time. Do you want to hang out? Call me."_

"_Christine, Meg again. I was wondering if you got my message? Call me back."_

"_I'm starting to get worried, Christine. Did I offend you or something? You were pretty freaked out last time I saw you and your phone calls have been kinda short. Is everything okay?"_

"_Christine Elizabeth Bartholomew Marie Jean Lee Daae!" _I snorted as I listened to this know how when some people are angry, they use your middle name? Well, when Meg gets really ticked, she uses every middle name she can think of, regardless of who it belongs to. _"What's going on with you? Please don't ignore me… I just… I know I haven't been a great friend lately. It's just… all this stuff with Joe… and… come on, Christine, I really need you right now. Come over for a visit. I'll be home all day."_

I thought it over as I erased the messages--I was being a terrible person and a terrible friend. I needed to rectify that immediately. I decided to go see Meg first. She seemed like the one who needed a friend the most right now. Plus, I hadn't quite worked out how I felt about Raoul.

--

All in all, Meg and I had a great time. She's not really the kind of person who likes to talk things out, and I'm not really the best at giving comfort anyway… so we just watched a movie and looked at magazines--you know, girl stuff. I think it was a good distraction for her. And I had a good time. She was still upset over Joe's suicide--who wouldn't be?--but every now and again I'd catch glimpses of the wacky old Meg I know and love. So it felt good to know that she wasn't lost in depression.

Eventually, though, our conversation turned to me. I should have expect it, really… I mean, she was bound to wonder what had kept me so occupied that I hadn't spoken to her.

"Well, I have decided to take up voice lessons again."

"Christine, that's fantastic! You were always such a good singer… it was a shame that you were so determined to quit after… you know…"

"Yeah, well, I'm still not sure if its going to be a permanent thing. It's just that this guy offered to train me for free, and he's pretty persuasive. I decided to give it some time and just see how things play out."

She sounded skeptical, "Really? Don't you think there's some catch there? What kind of teacher gives lessons for free?"

I shrugged. "Think he just doesn't have anything better to do."

"That can't be right. He must want _something _from you. Who is this guy?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me."

"Well… he's a guy from the Snowdrop Institute."

"Hmm… is he new? I don't remember there being any musicians working there."

"He's not exactly an employee."

"Christine… what are you saying? Don't tell me this is a _patient _we're talking about."

"See, I knew you wouldn't believe me. It sounds weird, doesn't it? But nobody has found out yet and Erik is really hard to say 'no' to. So I agreed… but just temporarily. It's nothing really."

Meg's jaw dropped. "_What_? With _him_?" she asked. Without letting me answer, she added, "With patient 13?"

"He has a name, Meg. He's a person."

"Fine… Erik… whatever. It doesn't matter. Don't you know that he is _dangerous_? Do you have any idea what you've done by getting close to him like this?"

"Well, I wouldn't say we're _close_, exactly…"

Meg just shook her head; her eyes were wide, as if she expected him to come bursting through the door at any second. "Look, Christine… whatever is going on between the two of you, it needs to stop. You might think it's nothing but…" she trailed off and then left the room, leaving me standing there, gaping like an idiot. I've experienced people walking away when I was talking to them… it's just odd, though, to see someone take off when _they _are in mid-sentence.

She returned a few seconds later, digging through what I suspect was her mother's purse. She made a little 'ah-ha' sound as she fished out a set of keys.

"Here, Christine," she said, handing me the keys. "My mom has access to the records room at the hospital. If you won't believe me, maybe you'll believe… just look at his file, okay?"

"Okay, but---"

"Look, I'm just worried about you. From the stories that Joe told me…" she stopped briefly as a choked sob interrupted her thoughts. Then she shook her head, continuing, "This guys is… he's bad news. I don't want you to get hurt. And before you say anything--I'm not talking about you getting all heartbroken or anything. You've gotten yourself into something more serious than that. Promise me you'll be careful."

"I promise, Meg."

She tugged at her hair, obviously irritated with me for some reason. "Fine. Fine… okay. Well, come back and see me later, just so I know you're alright."

"Yeah, alright." I answered.

As I went to get in my car, she called out from the house, "And don't forget to bring those keys back! I'm not taking the heat for you if my mom finds out!"


	15. Chapter 15

**Christine**

I toyed with the set of keys in my hand, trying to decide what I should do. Meg had offered me an opportunity to get some answers, answers I desperately wanted. But… I just wasn't sure what I would do when I got those answers. And, I was afraid of what I might find.

At the moment, it was simply this secret adventure with a mysterious man. It was easy to ignore the fact that he was locked away in that place for a _reason_.

But Meg had a point… this may be a matter of safety for me.

More than anything, though, I wanted to understand the odd things that were happening to my mind. And, for some reason, I had a hunch that this would help. I didn't have a lot of time to debate with myself (considering I was using 'borrowed' keys), so I let this be my deciding factor.

--

I don't know why, but I always thought a mental hospital would be really creepy at night. It turns out, though, that it's not much different than it is during the daytime. It was less busy, of course, but the lights were still on in the hallways and there were still nurses wandering around. For a moment I panicked--how was I supposed to sneak into the record room when there were people around?

I decided to take the straightforward route and simply acted like I was supposed to be there. Once I got into the room, though, I flipped off the lights and locked the door--no need to draw attention to myself, after all. It's one thing to lie and say that you stumbled into the wrong room. It's another matter entirely to try to explain why you were rifling through patient files in the middle of the night.

I flipped through the records before I came across an envelope labeled 'Erik'. They didn't even bother giving him a last name… not even 'Doe' or anything. Just 'Erik', as if that alone was all the information needed. I almost laughed at that. How infamous do you have to be for people to recognize you simply by your first name?

Erik's file had a surprising lack of information, considering how disturbed they considered him to be. But it did confirm what I had already known--that he had received no therapy, medication… any attention at all, as far as I could tell. It seemed they made their initial observations and left it at that.

**Patient Name****: Erik**

**Admitted****: January 27, 1988 **_(How odd, I thought. That was my birthday. I was one year old.)_

**Observations****: Patient exhibits violent reactions to all human interaction. Suspected of at least 12 murders over the last year, though exact cause of death remains unknown. Patient refuses to answer questions relating to the matter--simply repeating the words "You have to mean it". **

**Recommendation****: High-Security Ward for indefinite period of time. Complete isolation to ensure safety of staff and other patients. Further evaluation not necessary or recommended at this time.**

**Other observations/notes****: Scars on upper body--likely self-inflicted--in the form of words or markings (exact language unconfirmed--suspected some form of ancient, middle-eastern language), as well as evidence of flagellation and other healed wounds. FACIAL MASK WORN AT ALL TIMES. NOT TO BE REMOVED UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES. See record 13-344b for further details. **

I found myself scowling at the chart. All the other patients had pages and pages written about them. But this was all there was. _Hmm_.

Well, at least I had another reference to look up. That was something, right? I went hunting for 13-334b… which turned out not to be a file at all, but a box.

The first thing fell out, when I opened the box, was a video cassette labeled '_Security camera 18201--High Security Ward hallway--January 27, 1988_'. I frowned at it for a second, trying to think about where I could find a VCR. I hadn't watched a video tape in a long time. I set the cassette on the table so I could watch it later.

The next thing I drew out was a report, written by one of the security personnel present when Erik was admitted. What I discovered was that Joseph Buquet's stories were completely accurate. I had assumed at least _some _exaggeration… but he seemed to have gotten it right on the nose.

Erik had been captured by police (accused of the twelve, unsolved deaths) and heavily sedated for transfer to the Snowdrop facility. While unconscious, hospital staff attempted to change his garments to standard institution uniform. They did manage to remove his shirt but, the second a man reached to remove the mask, Erik suddenly awoke and took hold of the man's shoulder. That was all that was said.

Stapled to this report was a short explanation by the coroner. Gordon Dearing, age 34, killed during transfer of criminally insane patient--Erik, Cell 13. Cause of death: unknown.

As I skimmed through, the rest of the box, I saw that there was really no more information about Erik at all. Actually, what I found seemed to be copies of records (employee files or… to my surprise, _patient _files) of a lot of _other _people. Possible the personnel present at the time?

At the very end, I found a simple list:

Gordon Dearing - deceased, cause unknown - 1988, age 34

Hector Beyerl - deceased, heart attack - 1988, age 61

Corey Pickel - deceased, suicide - 1988, age 25

Lewis Winsor - admitted to ward 2a in June, 1988 for hallucinations and suicidal tendencies.

Daniel Cardiel - deceased, suicide - 1988, age 30

So that was what the managers meant when they wondered if _it was happening again_! A wave of suicides following the unexplained death of Gordon Dearing. That is why it was so important for them to know whether Joseph's death was really a suicide or if he had died of… this other strange reason.

And, of course, there was the matter of who hung him up there if he wasn't alive to hang himself…

But, perhaps the best bit of information of all was the knowledge that at least _one _of the guards was still alive. That was good news… it meant I had someone I could question.

--

There was only one thing that satisfied the odd sensations that accompanied separation with Erik, besides Erik himself: the dreams. The only problem with that was that these dreams scared me… a lot more than Erik, himself did.

On second thought, maybe not. As my nightmares became more graphic, I began to consult books on dreams and interpretation. I know that often a person dreams about something that they spend a lot of time thinking about during the daytime. Maybe it was my growing obsession with him that inspired these dreams in the first place?

Well, that and whatever imaginary shadow-creature that was that scared me so bad in the parking lot a few weeks back. Maybe I was combining the two?

Then again, I wouldn't be surprised if these dreams were self-perpetuating, somehow. Scary movies could cause nightmares, right? And these dreams were vivid, just like watching a movie. So couldn't they be producing nightmares of their own?

I had started a journal, detailing the images I saw, and had begun to believe that the various men I had witnessed were really the same man, in different stages of life. Each situation was different, but _he _was always the central character. Sometimes I went to him, and sometimes he came to me.

I always preferred it when he came to me, because it meant we could just sit and visit. He needed constant reassurance about… lots of things. But I found myself more than happy to give it.

When I went to him… well, it was always unpredictable. Many times I would witness him committing horrible acts with cold professionalism. Other times I would see him scribbling notes while pounding madly at whatever historical or modern instrument fit his surroundings. And still other times I would watch as he did more gentle tasks--reading, tinkering with various contraptions, drawing, even doctoring little injured animals. I saw him soothe a child, once, with the most beautiful voice imaginable.

But, as I said, it was unpredictable. And it terrified me to know that, at any moment, an innocent scene could change into a pile of mangled and bloated bodies. That is… well, it's an odd position to be in… never able to relax.

The worst part, though, about the dreams where _I _went to visit _him_, is that I could sense everything he was feeling. And the feelings of this man were… heartbreaking. I could feel his rage and frustration. I could feel it the moment his bitterness dissolved into depressions. Even when he was doing those simple tasks, I could sense horrible despair and loneliness.

After I returned from my secret excursion to the hospital, I had one of these dreams.

I was in a darkened room (they were always dark) and the man had his back to me, tinkering with an ancient computer--the kind with the black and orange screens. It was warm in the confined space, and he had his jacket off with his sleeves rolled up, revealing pale skin and long fingers.

But that was not all they revealed. On the man's forearms and the visible part of his neck, I could see raised markings, even whiter than the skin they decorated. This _had _to be Erik. Or, more likely, my _imagination _of him. Why else would I notice scars only hours after I read about them? He really had infected my brain!

"Why did you do that to yourself?" I asked, remembering the notes written by the doctors.

He chuckled. "You see these scars as a weakness, my angel. But I see them as a sign of strength--a sign that I have been able to fight what I am, all this time… that I have been strong enough to resist a great temptation, in the worst of circumstances. A sign that I can still control of myself for at least a little longer--_always a just little longer_--until my angel sets me free."

"Your angel? Do you mean me?"

He turned around, amusement in his eyes. "Would you like to know how these markings came to be? Do you really wish it? It would mean discovering more about me than you could possibly comprehend."

"I wish to know. More than anything. I am so confused by all of this… well… _this_. I need to understand why all this is happening to me."

"Are you prepared? It will not be easy to witness."

"I… I think so. I have to know."

With a short nod, the man began to transform. He grew shorter and younger, his skin pinker and healthier, his many scars and wounds disappearing. At last he removed his mask, revealing the perfect face of the little boy I remembered from my other dreams.

"Follow me, then," he replied, reaching out his little hand for me to take.

I took it.

--


	16. Chapter 16

**Well, it would seem as if I went a little overboard in the horror/violence area in this chapter, and it is a little intense. So I have decided that I needed to up the rating. However, if you are uncomfortable with violence, you can just skip the part I have marked off with warnings. At the end of the chapter, I'll give you a summary of what you missed. **

**In case you are wondering, this should be the only chapter where this is an issue. **

* * *

Suddenly, I was standing in a large room, decorated in a middle-eastern theme and inappropriately well-lit for the act currently taking place. In the center of the room was a square scaffold… only smaller and rectangular, like a door frame. There was a man, strapped to it with each limb stretched and fastened to each corner. He was pale and so painfully skinny, as if he hadn't eaten in months.

"Why is his face always blurred?" I asked the boy.

His voice was somber and when he answered. "He is afraid. He does not wish for you to see it… even in a dream." He bared his teeth in a dangerous grin and looked at me coldly. It was as if he was daring me to say more. I bit my tongue and held the rest of my questions.

Well… most of my questions.

"So _he _is responsible for these dreams?" I asked. I needed to know whether these dreams were completely random, or derived from my own imagination, or if they were orchestrated somehow. Was this man--Erik or whoever he was--actually responsible for what I was seeing?

"Yes and no," he answered hesitantly. "You would be unwise to despise him for it, if that is what you are hinting at. Now hush up… behold what happens."

I turned my gaze away from the child and focused on the scene ahead of me. A veiled woman circled the prisoner with a calculating look in her eyes.

"You must know by now that you have displeased me," she said. Her voice was absurdly seductive, considering the situation.

"I cannot imagine why," answered the man. Despite the breathless rasp that remained of his voice--when was his last drink of water?--he managed to sound haughty. For some reason, I felt great pride in his strength. It was as if I was rooting for a fighter or a… sports… guy. Or something. It was weird.

_Stay strong, _I thought. _Have courage. I believe in you. _

He continued. "Was I not _creative _enough for you, madam? Not sadistic enough to keep you entertained."

She slapped him hard--he never so much as twitched.

"That is not the appropriate way to address your queen!" she snarled, temporarily losing the tightly reigned control she had been carrying.

The man did nothing more than laugh in her face. "Queen? Hardly."

"Oh yes!" she purred, anger immediately gave way to amusement. "I remember… you are not subject to the laws of man. You are quite unique. I have heard the rumors, of course. Tell me… are they correct? Is it true you cannot die?"

No response.

"I shall take your silence as your answer. Then, I wonder, what of the other rumors--that you can kill a man with a single touch?"

"I assure you I have never done anything so extraordinary as that. I have no idea where you could have heard such nonsense."

"No idea? Really, my pet? Perhaps you should be more careful with your secrets, hmm?"

As she said this, a broken looking man was dragged in and thrown to the ground at the prisoner's feet.

"Nadir?" the prisoner choked. My heart went out to him--his voice sounded so small and childlike that I could have mistaken him for the little boy at my side. "You have betrayed me?"

"My friend, _please_," the other man gasped, spitting blood onto the floor as he did so. "I did not mean for this to happen! I beg you to understand… I have a wife and a family…"

"You mean you_ had _a wife and family," the queen corrected smugly.

The man--Nadir--looked at the queen in horror. "You didn't! But you said---"

She put a finger to his lips, close but not quite touching him. "Tsk tsk, hush now, you've done your part. Well… almost."

When the first prisoner spoke again, his voice was terrible. Gone was the childlike pain and, in its place, was a hissing bitterness. But still, he drew himself up--as much as possible considering the position he was bound in--and slipped on his cover of arrogant boredom. "What do you want?" he asked.

"I want a demonstration. Have you been holding out on me, pet? Show your queen what you can do." The guards raised up the betrayer high onto the platform so that the prisoner's bare hand had no choice but to touch him.

Nothing happened.

"Kill him!" the queen screamed. "Obey me!"

"I have killed scores for you. Tortured and conducted heinous acts, all for your pleasure. Built the most beautiful structures of suffering. And yet you are not satisfied!"

"No! I am _not _satisfied. I brought you here to witness _all _of your talents!"

"Your _son _brought me here to build this very building. Do not delude yourself, madam. You hold less power here than I do."

She giggled coquettishly, and the various guards and servants gave out their own hearty laughs. "Says the man bound to the rack! How very amusing you are. Fine then, pet, have it your way. If you will not entertain me, I shall have to entertain myself." She waved her hand and the guards bore Nadir away.

"What do you say to an experiment, my pet? You have always been so fond of your experiments. And I have always been curious--how much can a man be made to _suffer_, if he is not allowed to die? Shall we find out?"

**Warning: Violence**

When she snapped her fingers, two expensively dressed servants stepped forward. One held, in his hands, a small cauldron filled with a sickly green liquid, bubbling like boiling soup. The other presented a silk bag, from which the queen removed a jewel encrusted dagger. It was beautiful, in a morbid sort of way--intricately crafted, like it was meant for a museum rather than… well… what it was about to be used for.

"The problem is, my pet, that you forget what you are. A creature… nothing more than a monster." She took the knife and dipped it into the bubbling substance, and then touched it to his skin. "Monster, abomination, bringer of destruction… I shall make sure you never forget. Each time you look at yourself in the mirror--if you can ever bear to do so--you will read these words and remember."

I shut my eyes, horrified as I understood what she was about to do.

He screamed.

"Such beautiful screams," she cooed, reapplying the poison to her dagger. "I never knew how lovely your voice truly was. You have no idea how much your pain pleases me."

I peeked one eye open, long enough to see what damage had been inflicted. It was hard to tell through the blood and the burning, but I could see the beginning of her condemning words forming across his arms and torso. He cried out again, and I tried to turn away. As I did this, the little boy took hold of my hand, startling me for I had forgotten that he was even there.

He shook his head. "No, angel," he said, "this is the part I have brought you to see."

As he said this, a light appeared from across the room. But not just a light… a figure. It was the shape of a woman, clothed in white. But there was something else about her…

"That's… _me_!" I gasped, suddenly recognizing the specter. She was dressed in what could have been a gown but what could have been… hospital scrubs.

I looked to the boy for confirmation. "Is that me?" I asked him.

"Not yet," he answered.

My counterpart approached the suffering man with a gentle smile on her lips. Even with his blurred out face, I could see his head tilt to look at her. He was clearly panting, but his screams had stopped.

"He is imagining her," the boy clarified. "She is the one who is always on his mind… the thought of her brings him comfort. She keeps him… sane."

The queen continued to carve away, but it seemed as if the man no longer noticed her. Actually, I quit noticing her as well. From my perspective, the goings on of the room began to fade in preference to the scene between the captive and my counterpart. Imagine you are watching a play, and the lights dim save for a spotlight on one specific part of the stage.

The woman lifted a glowing hand and laid it on the suffering man's cheek. As she did this, the sounds of the room died down just as the lights had. I heard him sigh.

"_Angel_…" he whispered reverently. I doubt I would have heard it if the background sounds hadn't dulled to murmurs and white-noise.

She nodded and smiled again, moving her hand and beckoning him to rest his face in the crook of her neck. He shuddered--reminding me that, peaceful as the scene now seemed, the reality of the horrific torture had not changed--and she stroked his hair.

"_Stay strong," _she said, echoing my earlier thoughts verbatim,_ "Have courage. I believe in you."_

"_My angel…"_

"Is he in love with her?" I asked suddenly. I don't know where that question came from… I just had to know. Maybe it had to do with the resemblance between me and the glowing lady. Not just in appearance, but also the way we were both called 'angel' with such devotion.

Once again, the boy's look grew cold. "There is no _love_," he spat, "not for him." He looked back longingly at the intimate scene. "But… he needs her. He depends on her to keep him grounded. He would do anything for her… he is… _incomplete _without her."

I frowned; it sounded an awful lot like love to me… but it was apparently a touchy subject for the little boy.

I turned back to where the specter was comforting the shuddering man. He was still bound, but someone must have washed some of the blood off, because the words scarred into him could be seen more clearly, even as the skin around them continued to blister and peel. He still had not cried out and remained focused my counterpart, who murmured soothing nonsense into his ear as he nuzzled her neck.

"_I am so tired," _he all but moaned,_ "Set me free, I beg of you." _

His voice was so pained, that I felt compelled to go to him. I needed to _fix _this somehow. I took a step forward, only to feel a staying hand on my arm.

"Not _yet!_" the child insisted.

His torturer laughed loudly, assuming his anguished plea was meant for her. "The great Angel of Death… begging! Ha! This is turning out to be more delightful than I ever could imagine!"

The man moved, allowing the glimmering figure to unwind her arms and take a few steps back. Then he tilted his head back… and _sang_.

Oh, how he sang!

It was a voice unlike anything you could ever imagine.

What followed was complete pandemonium. A cacophony of screams joined the prisoner's song as the guards and servants began to turn their disgust and hatred onto themselves. Those who carried weapons, used them on themselves. The rest began pulling at their hair, scratching their eyes and skin so increasingly deep gashes formed--_literally _ripping their own bodies to shreds.

The queen's arms twitched as if she, too, wanted to take part. But otherwise she remained motionless and watched with wide eyes as the self-mutilation occurred in all corners of the room.

After a moment, several guards closed in upon the trembling queen, bloodied weapons aimed in her direction. Their own skin hung raggedly from their arms. There would surely be no mercy for her.

She looked behind her--the prisoner was still singing. There would be no escape either.

When they pounced, I shut my eyes. I was surprised I had not done so before now, the sight was unbearable. If I hadn't already known this was a dream, I would have figured it out then, because in real life I would have thrown up by now.

It did not last long. The moment the gore started, time sped up like someone pressed 'fast forward' on the TV. I got the distinct impression that someone wanted me to see this, but didn't want to linger on the details.

The point is, that the whole scene was over in less than a minute. A truly horrific less than a minute… but at least it was over quickly. Before I knew it, everyone who was dead or dying blurred out of existence, much like the prisoner's face.

**End Warning**

"I don't understand!" I screamed at the boy. "Why is he doing this? If he can kill someone just by touching them… why is he choosing _this_?"

"Because," the child answered passionately, "the queen did not understand what she was asking! She does not understand the power that he has. His touch--coupled with his _intent_--would cause something much worse than death. She wishes to witness a magic trick. What she is truly asking is for him to condemn a man to… a half life, of sorts. A trapped soul, unable to move on. And so he refused. He refused until he could stand no more and then he chose _this _as the more merciful alternative."

_He really thought this was the more merciful alternative? _I thought to myself. _To be so resistant to this power that he would kill a whole room full of people rather than give in! _I did not know if that was something I would be able to understand. The boy--the man--seemed to be begging me to understand… and forgive.

But, I was not sure if I could. This was too much.

"_Free me, angel!" _the prisoner--no longer a prisoner--pleaded once more. I was so, so happy that it was not me he was speaking to. I don't know what I would have told him.

My angel counterpart did not hesitate, though. In a gentle voice, she assured him, _"I shall, Erik, I promise you. When you find me."_

The boy beside me took a deep breath, as if he had completed some great task. "It is time to wake up now," he said with a soft smile.

"Erik?" I asked, "That's who that is? Like… the same Erik as…" My mind hummed--this was beginning to seem less like a dream and more like a… memory. I grasped the boy's shoulders, desperate to have my question answered, "Did this… did this really happen?"

His smile grew to an all-out grin, he threw his arms around me and hugged me tightly. He would be just too cute for words if it wasn't for the fact that he kind of creeped me out.

"See you later!" he cried, cheerfully.

Not two seconds later, I was back in my bedroom fumbling for my glasses so I could see what ungodly hour of the morning I had woken up at.

_Erik_, I thought, remembering the dream. The name, the words that would become scars… I could not ignore this anymore.

I had to know for certain.

I barely had the presence of mind to throw on some jeans and a sweatshirt over my pajama set before jumping in the car and speeding off toward the hospital.

--

"Show me your arms."

"Well, good morning to you too, Christine. Or is it still night?"

"No games, Erik, just push up your sleeves."

His eyes lost their amusement and he seemed hesitant, but he did begin rolling up his shirt sleeves. "What do you know of this?" he asked slowly, never taking his eyes off of me.

I could not control my breathing when I saw--he bore the _exact _same markings on his arms that I had witnessed in the dream. There was no denying whatever strangeness was going on. I _might _have been able to dismiss what the boy had showed me as a figment of my imagination, spurred on by the report I had read earlier. But there was no way I could have known that the words written on Erik's body would look _exactly like this._

Things were starting to come together.

And then they started to fall apart.

"So it's true, then?" I asked, more to myself. Erik continued to watch me.

"You have been dreaming of me." he said--not quite a question and not quite a statement, but somewhere in between.

"You didn't know?" I was surprised, actually. I had believed the things I saw were… well I guess I thought he was the one responsible. But then I remembered how vaguely the boy had answered when I asked him. _Yes and no_, he'd said.

Erik shrugged. "I suspected. I had hoped… I had hoped I would not be alone in this. Why did you not come to me earlier?"

I didn't answer. Instead I asked another question. "How old are you?"

"Old. Very old. Hundreds of years."

My laugh was rather out of place at the moment, but I couldn't help but think of how hung up I was on Joseph being 15 years older than me. In comparison it did seem a little ridiculous.

_Joe._

I stopped laughing.

There was no proof that he had hurt Joe. Even _if _Erik did have some magic touch of living death--I had witnessed him going to such great lengths to keep from using it, that I couldn't imagine him killing Joe that way.

Then again, even if he did not do anything to Joe--or even those other people he was accused of hurting--if my dreams were correct, he was still a murderer.

"So what I have been dreaming about these last few weeks… is it all true? Did all of it happen?"

"I am afraid I do not know exactly what it is you dreamt, but I would believe most of it to be true."

"You've hurt a lot of people, haven't you?" I wondered, voice trembling. It wasn't just the several people I saw in my most recent nightmare--I could _almost _forgive that, actually… or at least _understand _it as the temporary insanity of a tortured man.

But what of the others? That magician from before… the others that I haven't mentioned, that had been killed for failing, lying, or giving false hope, as he fell into dark depressions. And that doesn't count the ones coldly killed for _other people._ He had survived for centuries… and, from the scattered and broken visions I had acquired, had served as an assassin--The Phantom--on more than one occasion.

How many lives has he destroyed?

To my horror, Erik merely shrugged at the accusation. "You've seen glimpses of my life. You know what I am."

"And what is that?"

"A monster."

Yesterday I would have argued with him, tried to ease his self-loathing. But, for the first time, I believed his description just might be accurate.

"You do not deny it?" I challenged.

But he shook his head, again unfazed. "I have only regretted one thing: a choice I made as a small boy. And I have only lost sleep over one thing: that I had not found you sooner. But now I see that the latter was not even possible."

"What is that supposed to mean? Wait, never mind… I don't care. I… this is a lot to take in. I am going away for a few days."

That got me the first emotional recaction I had seen all morning. "You will not leave Erik!" he shouted, slamming both hands against the door. His eyes glowed. "You will stay. Christine must not leave!"

I put up my hands, a placating gesture that came so naturally. I still cared for him. "Not forever, Erik. I just need time to think. Tomorrow is the anniversary of my father's death. I wanted to go spend some time at the beach house we used to visit."

He was breathing so hard, I thought he might be having a heart attack or something. "But Christine will return, yes? You will come back to Erik?"

I did not want to answer, but I did anyway, but I'm certain the hesitation was apparent in my voice. "Yes," I conceded, "I will… return."

"Swear it, Christine. Promise your Erik that you will come back in three days."

"Three days. Yes, I guess that's okay. I promise."

Eyes bright, he took off his glove and removed a simple ring from his finger. He knelt down and I reluctantly bent to open the tiny door flap, allowing him to pass the ring to me.

"Wear this always, Christine. It is a sign that Erik permits you to go away for a time. You must never take it off."

I don't know why--maybe it was just to make him happy, maybe I was just too accustomed to being pushed around--but I accepted the ring and slipped it on my finger. It made me feel warm and comfortable all over. Safe. Right.

The thought was disturbing.

"Goodbye, Erik."

"Three days, Christine."

--

Just as I was leaving the hospital, I was stopped in the hall.

"Miss Daae?" a male voice asked. I jumped; I'd had enough of people addressing me from the dark.

"Who are you? Come out where I can see you."

The man did not seem bothered in the slightest by my rather obvious paranoia. That alone was suspicious. (Wow… that is _really _obvious paranoia, isn't it? Yikes. Clearly my recent meeting with the man with whom I had imprudently placed a great deal of trust had left me more than a little jumpy.)

"I am sorry to frighten you, Miss Daae. My name is Nadir Khan. I work… with… Erik."

_Nadir? Wasn't that the name of Erik's disloyal friend in the dream… er… memory? _They didn't really look alike, save for a few features--but even that could be my imagination. The name must be a coincidence. _I don't know anything about Middle-Eastern names… maybe it's common, like John or something._ Still the similarities bothered me. I decided to leave it and file it away in my brain for later examination.

"What on earth is that supposed to mean?" I snapped, referring to the ridiculousness of his last statement. "Erik has been in isolation for twenty years. And I have never seen you working here before."

"No, I suspect you haven't. I keep odd hours. I am a… janitor."

"We don't have janitors. And what does that have to do with Erik, anyway?" _And why do you call him by his name, as if you know him? Why don't you call him Number 13, like everybody else?_

He gave me a rather exasperated look. "Listen, Miss Daae. We do not have a great deal of time. Do you truly wish to argue my presence here or are you interested in knowing why I have approached you in the first place?"

I didn't answer, just crossed my arms. It probably looked more childish than intimidating… but, whatever, I had bigger thoughts on my mind.

Once again, not seeming bothered by my behavior, the man presented me with a video tape. I thought, in my head, three or four different curse words that would be rather unladylike to record--this was the security tape I had pulled from the records of Erik's incarceration. The one I had left on the table to take home with me. The one that I had left on the table and apparently _forgot _to take home with me.

"Do you realize," he said, "that, had anybody else discovered this, you would find yourself in a great deal of trouble right now?"

I swallowed nervously, but nodded. "What will you do with it now?"

"I wish for you to watch it, and these as well," he handed me a set of DVD's, more security footage, "and understand the extent of Erik's control."

"What do you mean?"

"He is a powerful man, not to be underestimated… and he has taken _great _interest in you. He is obsessed with you, to put it bluntly, and I wish for you to understand the seriousness of that situation."

"Is he in love with me?" I don't know why I kept asking about that but, with all this talk of obsession, I guess I just wanted to be sure.

But Nadir only gave a sad shake of his head. "I believe that love has nothing to do with it."

"Then what on earth is he so obsessed with?"

I have never seen a man look so weary and defeated as Nadir looked right then. "I know about your… secret meetings. How much you do you know of Erik's past?"

Shuddering, I answered, "More than I wish to. I know of the… acts… he has committed. I know that he is ancient, and that he cannot die. Sounds silly, isn't it?"

"Not at all, Miss Daae, for I also know the truth of what you have said." He gave me another pitying look, then continued, "Erik believes that he is missing half of his soul, and that he cannot rest from his wandering until he has repaired it. He believes that _you _are the one who possesses that soul fragment, and will stop at nothing until it is returned to him."

"And what will happen then?"

"He wishes to die, Miss Daae. And he believes that he will be able to once his soul is whole again."

"He will die?"

"That is what he believes. Please understand me… I do not share his belief that you are the angel he speaks of. To be honest, I do not know _what_ to believe. But what matters is that _he _believes it. Erik is truly… insane. There is a _reason _he is here, you must not forget. His mind began to corrode twenty-one years ago and he is… quite mad. And that, I am afraid, makes him more dangerous."

"I see."

He probably sensed my doubt, because he looked even more trampled than before. "I will go now. _Please, _I beg of you, watch those recordings and consider the extent he is willing to go to keep you. Think about your own safety first. If you wish to escape, you must do so before it is too late."

Before I had the opportunity to ask another question, he turned and walked away, leaving me by myself to wonder…

_Is it already too late?_

* * *

**Okay, if you have skipped the scary part, here is what happened: The queen tortures Erik, leaving him with scars in the form of curse words and insults (monster, abomination, etc). Christine is finally able to witness Erik's angel--a creature of light that looks exactly like her. The angel comforts Erik, the boy explains to Christine that this is the only thing that keeps him sane. He tells her that, while he is incapable of love, he needs this angel to complete him. Eventually, Erik begins to sing, driving all of the people in the room to violently kill themselves. The guards turn on the queen and kill her.**

**Thanks for reading.**

**-G-  
**


	17. Chapter 17

**Christine**

I left the hospital in a contemplative mood. Actually, for that I am rather proud of myself. After all of the things I had seen and heard and learned in the past few hours, I believe I had earned myself a good panic. But instead, there I was, completely calm and wondering how my life had turned into a bad fantasy/sci-fi movie.

Erik was old. Very old. And he's spent his whole life looking for… me? Not _me _exactly… but the missing half of his soul, which I have been holding onto for him, apparently.

The soul thing… odd as it was… made some sense to me. Nadir may think Erik was mistaken, but the knowledge just felt… right, somehow. It explained the comfortable feeling I had around him, despite the fact that I should want to run for the hills, knowing what I did about him.

It was more than a comfortable feeling, really… that _pull_ that I had been feeling made me physically ill to be away from him, and his nearness made it ease into something so entirely pleasant that…

Well, it just made sense. His soul was calling to him.

_But I'm not sick now_, I observed as I drove further away from the hospital. Actually, this was the first time I'd felt a real sense of calm when I wasn't visiting or dreaming of _him_. I twisted the gold band on my finger; a comfortable warmth seemed to emanate from it and spread to the rest of me.

It was, I realized, a symbol of his permission to part from him. As I thought on it, I started to understand better the conversation we'd had moments before. For three days, he had set me free. For three days he would allow me to take his fractured soul and go where I wished without the pain of leaving his side.

It was… a gift… in a way.

And it disgusted me.

I really was bound to him. I had freedom only because he _allowed_ it--which really isn't freedom at all, now is it?

I knew, in my heart of hearts, that there would be no escape for me.

But, heaven help me, that wasn't going to stop me from trying.

--

By the time I got home, I was exhausted. I still needed to pack… but well… have you ever gone into a room and then forgotten why you went there in the first place? I was doing that. So, after fifteen minutes of bewildered staring into my closet, I decided I'd better catch a nap before heading out.

But I couldn't sleep. Stupid Erik.

The video recordings that Mr. Khan gave me were heavy on my mind. He obviously thought it was very important for me to see whatever it was that was recorded on them. Though, what that could be, I had no idea.

_Well, there's one way to find out…_

I started with the original security tape--the one I had dug up from the records room and forgotten--from the day Erik was admitted.

I don't know what I was expecting, but I found myself rather surprised anyway.

Most of it was exactly how Joe said it would be. A man was wheeled into the hallway of the high security ward on a stretcher. I watched as the men--four hospital staff and a police officer--held him steady while trying to peel back his shirt. It made my heart tug a little, but it wasn't really anything out of the ordinary. They had to get him changed, after all.

But then… someone touched the mask.

What happened next was… odd, to say the least. I watched as Erik seemed to rip himself into consciousness and push off the people holding him down. Imagine that, a man waking up out of a dead sleep and throwing back several grown men like they weighed nothing!

And then, the camera seemed to cut out. There was a little blip of that fuzzy TV static and, the next thing you know, Erik is gone--locked up--and the guys are kneeling over a fallen man, checking for pulse and whatnot.

I rewound the video. Same thing. According to the time stamp at the bottom of the screen, five minutes had simply disappeared from record.

To be honest, it kind of irked me. _I _knew about Erik's past, but there was no reason anyone else would. From what I understood, nobody had actually _seen _him kill people while he was on the 'outside' and once he was admitted, there was nothing more than a few angry men's testimonies that he had done something supernatural. There was no hard proof of _anything_. In my gut, I knew he was guilty… but what was it about him that was so terrifying that they would put him in solitary confinement for two decades on nothing more than circumstantial evidence?

As I flipped through the more recent recordings--trying to figure out what to watch next--I pondered this question. That is when I noticed a small note slip out from the stack and fall onto the floor.

**Lewis Winsor, 555-0702**

Winsor. I recognized the name… this was the one surviving witness to Erik's capture. I tossed the DVD's onto the couch and pulled out my cell phone. The rest of the videos, sleep, and packing would just have to wait. I had questions and that were finally going to get answered.

_Thank you, Mr. Khan… whoever you are._

--

"Mr. Winsor?" I asked carefully. I wasn't sure what to expect from him. His sister-turned-caretaker had painted him to be a volatile man, still ached by the trauma he had experienced at Erik's hand.

"Hello. Call me Lewis."

"Okay… then you must call me Christine. How are you, Lewis?"

"Oh… just fine. Just fine."

"I've come to talk to you."

"What about?"

"Patient 13... Erik," I answered simply. No use beating around the bush.

Instantly, upon hearing that name, Lewis tensed up. He took his head in his hands, pulling at his hair and rocking in his seat.

"No, no, no… I can't… not _him_. Death… pain… oh Gordon… poor, poor Gordon. But poor Lewis, too…"

"I'm sorry, sir, I know it is difficult. But I _really _need to know."

"Why? Why would a child like you need to know of such horror?"

"E--" I started, then changed my mind. "_He_ is a… friend of mine."

"No! No… what? Why? Why would you do such a thing?"

"It's hard to explain, really. Will you help me? Will you tell me what happened… er… _that night_?"

He was trembling all over, and his eyes darted back and forth in a way that made me wonder if he might bolt. Or maybe he was checking the room to make sure _he _wasn't there, listening in.

"He kills. Did you know that, Christine? He brings death. He _is _death."

"Tell me what happened, Lewis. Start from the beginning."

"Yes… the beginning. The police helped bring him in. He had killed… _out there _too. But they caught him… shot him once, in the chest… did you know that? Didn't kill him, though. No, ma'am… didn't kill him. But it knocked him out… and so the police could bring him to us. Didn't want him in the jails, I reckon. Thought it'd be safer if they sent him to us.

"We sedated him as he entered the building--better safe than sorry… besides, if he'd been shot, we thought we'd have to patch him up before shutting him away. He was a real mess when we got his shirt off--scars and marks everywhere, pale and skinny, not to mention the bloody hole where the bullet went in. But we never did get a chance to fix him up… didn't even so much as put a bandage on him."

"Why not?" I asked, unable to keep from interrupting.

He didn't appear to hear me, though… just stared past me with glazed-over eyes.

"Gordon… oh… he meant well, we all did. He touched themask. And… and…" he started weeping.

"And what?" I pressed. "Lewis, you have to tell me!"

"_He _woke up. Just sat up and threw everybody off of him. All except Gordon. He still had his hand on the mask and… and it came off when he was pushed back."

Tears were streaming down his face, and he didn't even seem to notice. His voice softened considerably, though, as he continued robotically, "And that's when it happened… Patient 13 killed him. Just reached out and grabbed his shoulder… and he fell down dead, just like that.

"What happened next was sort of a whirlwind. Dan… um… Officer Cardiel--he's the cop who followed us in to help out--shot him with his stun-gun, which kept him down long enough to pump him full of tranquilizers and throw him in Cell 13."

"And that's it?"

His eyes shifted. "Yes. That's it. That's all that happened."

I knew he had to be hiding something. It didn't add up. I mean, yes, witnessing a crazed lunatic kill your colleague is a _very _traumatic experience. I couldn't even imagine the mental shock that must have been. But… was it enough to give a man a heart attack, make two more men commit suicide (would have been three if Lewis Winsor hadn't been caught in time) all within the same year? Was it enough for a grown man to huddle and shake like a child over _twenty years _after the event occurred--emotionally disabled for the rest of his life?

"I sense there's something you're not telling me."

The look of intense pain on his face almost made me withdraw the question. His eyes closed and he took a shuddering breath. "It was… his face. I see it every time I close my eyes. It was like looking into the face of death."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I can't describe it very well… not to someone who hasn't _seen_. It was like a skull with skin… like looking at a corpse that was on the verge of rotting but not quite yet. But it was so much more than that… when he killed Gordon, his eyes flashed _bright red_. And I couldn't help wondering, you know, if that was what the Devil looks like. That's when we knew we'd have to make sure he was hidden away forever. Didn't even care about all that rehabilitation stuff. Just to look at him was… if you imagine every single one of your fears flooding back to you at the same time."

"So the mask actually came off, then? That wasn't in the report."

He laughed bitterly. "No, it wouldn't be. Nobody believed us. Our superiors thought we were hallucinating--all of us!--because, really, who could possibly look like that and still be alive? They heard our story and told us to leave it out. We also kept out the gunshot wound. We thought he would die--he _should _have died! We'd injected so much sedative into his system that that alone should have killed him. And he was still bleeding profusely from the wound we never got a chance to treat."

"You were actually going to let him _die_?" I asked, incredulous.

Lewis just sighed. "None of us said it out loud… but I believe we all kind of wanted him dead. The earth was not made to house evil like that."

I couldn't help but feel a bit protective of my once-friend. My poor Erik, abused for centuries with no champion but an imaginary angel to come to his aid.

I shook my head at my stupidity. But… I don't know… even with all this terrible stuff I knew about Erik, I couldn't help but remember the lonely man who shared a peanut butter and banana sandwich with me.

Regardless, there was no use arguing with _this _man about it. He was so haunted by this experience that he couldn't even function like a normal person. Most likely, he'd be on medication forever, just to keep him calm. This was a man who was so incapacitated by his fear that he would be under the care of his sister, or another, for the rest of his life.

Point being: Lewis Winsor was the absolute _last _person who could be convinced that Erik had a gentler side.

So, instead of opening that can of worms, I settled for asking, "So, I get why you didn't mention his… appearance. But why did you lie about the bullet wound? Surely someone would have been suspicious if he'd bled to death right there in his cell?"

It was rather unsettling that he began _laughing _at that thought. "No, no, no. You see… all of us agreed--the hospital staff and the police--to leave that part out. If someone… if anyone had gotten wind of the fact that he'd been injured and we'd denied him help… well, nobody would believe our side of the story. No, no… he was _supposed _to die and I sure as hell was not about to lose everything because of that… that…"

He didn't finish his sentence, just trailed off and went back to his violent rocking. Then he started crying. Like _really _crying.

"I can see him," he wailed, "Even now, after all this time… I can see him. Those glowing eyes, that death's head. No more! Please! In the night he's there, in the day he's there! I can think of nothing else…"

A little alarm went off--not loud, just a beeping. I wasn't sure if it picked up his heart rate, or maybe the volume of his voice… or maybe he pushed some kind of panic button. At any rate, his sister came in quickly and tried her best to calm him down.

"I'm so sorry!" I managed to stutter out. "I never meant to make him…"

The woman hushed me, but without malice. I was surprised, really. I kind of expected her to get upset and throw me out. Instead she seemed so… resigned. For the first time I noticed how haggard she looked, and I found a new respect for her dedication to her brother.

"It's alright," she replied, wearily. "This happens… often. And it's time for his medication now, anyway. Would you mind seeing yourself out?

"Of course not. Thank you, ma'am for allowing me to come here."

I didn't expect a response--she had her hands full, after all--so I slipped out as soon as I'd issued my goodbye.


	18. Chapter 18

**Christine**

I was even less likely to sleep when I got home than when I left, so I continued to assuage my ever-building curiosity and started watching the other security recordings.

_They're all exactly the same_, I realized. Well, not _exactly _the same--they were all stamped with different dates and times--but they looked the same. It was a view of the empty hallway. That was it. The odd part was that, every so often, I would see the door to the hall start to open and then there would be that fuzzy blip on the screen and, next thing you know, the numbers at the bottom would indicate that a significant amount of time had gone by. It was the same thing that happened when Erik was admitted; it was as if the camera just stopped working for a time. But it happened so consistently that I was having a hard time believing that it wasn't intentional.

"That's because it _was _intentional," a voice said behind me. I groaned into my hands. Was I asleep this time or was this another hallucination?

"You again? Leave me alone. I don't want to talk to you."

_He _chuckled and the room slowly darkened. I felt _his _presence close behind me. A pressure ran up and down my arms, like hands moving over me… but with no temperature or scent or any of the things that make a person seem _real_.

"Are you certain, angel mine? Can you not see how much I want _you?_ How I would do _anything _for you? I suspect your superiors would have not been pleased to know you were spending so much time with their most dangerous… prisoner. Do you see how Erik has protected you? Protected your… time… together? There will be no record of your visits."

I flailed my arms (rather comically) behind me, trying to push him away. But, while I felt his grip on my shoulders, my own hands seemed to pass through empty air.

_How is it that he can touch me and I cannot touch him_?

Real or not, I couldn't help but shiver when he moved my hair to the side and buried his face in the crook of my neck. But it did not last long; the second he drew in a breath, he pulled away from me in disgust.

"You must go and bathe yourself now."

I turned around, offended. "Excuse me?"

"What have you been doing? Have you betrayed me?"

"What on earth are you talking about?"

"Do not toy with me. I detect another man's scent on your skin. It is… repulsive."

I sniffed the back of my hand--didn't smell any different to me. And what was he referring to, at any rate? Lewis Winsor? I didn't even touch him. But… I was in the room alone with him for awhile. Was even _that _so offensive?

"Listen, mister… what I do is none of your business. If I am so repulsive to you, then feel free to _leave_."

He hissed and I could almost make out Erik's glowing eyes inside the shadow man. "I will _never _leave you. And I will never let you go. You belong to Erik and no one shall take you away."

For several moments we stared at each other. My shadow man seemed to pulse and breathe--in a ghostly sort of way--and gold eyes looked hard into my own. I was able to meet his gaze for all of two seconds before I fell away and rubbed my temples, suddenly feeling the full effects of my exhaustion. I was afraid… but in that weary sense, like when you have a dream so bad that you can't even comprehend going to your parent's bed, so instead you just sit, helpless and terrified, under your own covers, wishing for the night to be over.

But, I had no covers to hide under. And it seemed that the sun was a long time coming.

I turned around; odd as it seems, _he _was less scary when I _wasn't _looking at him. I could pretend it was the _real _Erik I was talking to--that made me nervous on an entirely different level, but at least I wouldn't have that aching sense that I was losing my mind by talking to spirits.

"Then," I murmured, pointedly ignoring his threatening words, "would you at least answer a question for me?"

"Ask me anything. You, of all people, should know that I can keep no secrets from my angel."

Hmm. That seemed rather… incongruous with the fact that I was unraveling a mystery inch by painfully frustrating inch, and doing it entirely on my own.

_Then again… maybe you're just asking the wrong questions._

Now there was a thought! And an oversight I intended to rectify immediately.

"Is it true that you… er… Erik, or, _whoever_… is it true, the thing about being able to kill someone just by touching them?"

"It is."

"But… if you have to kill someone--which you shouldn't by the way--wouldn't it be better to do it that way? What about all the people you tortured? Or the people you killed trying to find… well… _me_? I get it that sometimes it was self defense… sort of. How could you possibly think it was a merciful alternative to sparing them the pain of dying?"

"I thought you understood," he sighed. "Death is… _death_. Simple. Complete. The soul goes where it was meant to go and that is the end of it. But, to touch someone in _this _way--and truly mean it--is worse than death. Erik was given the ability to _ruin _a soul with the slightest press of his hand."

"What about all those dreams I had… he touched people all the time and didn't kill them. Like that Nadir guy."

"Yes but… you have to _mean _it. There has to be a _desire _to destroy someone that way, if it is to work." I opened my mouth to question, but he was one step ahead of me. "Anger is not enough. Revenge… even calculated murder does not matter. Complete disregard for humanity--for any reason--is the driving force behind Erik's power."

"Where did something like that _come _from? Well… I guess you can do all sorts of extraordinary things… but still. I've seen Erik suffer and cry and… and he's been tied up and restrained and, even now, he's locked away in a cell. That means he must have limitations, right? He's still… or at least part of him is still a _man, _isn't he? How can a person even _do _such things?"

The spirit made a little sound of approval, as if he was pleased by my acknowledgment of Erik's humanity. Then he answered, "It was a power Erik received when he was a boy. By a… mentor, of sorts… if you can call him that. It was intended is a gift, but is truly a curse--one that Erik has spent his much of his life trying to contain."

And _that _led to the question that had been aching in me all this time. "But… _why_? What happened? He spent all these hundreds of years restraining this ability, and then twenty years ago he just… snaps? Isn't that what happened to all those people that mysteriously died?"

"It is."

"Then what changed?"

"You did."

"Excuse me?"

"Do you really wish to know the answer to this? I will show you, but you may not like what you see."

I shuddered, just a bit, remembering the last time one of Erik's… um… manifestations… asked me that very question. I do not regret what I saw, exactly--it was necessary--but I wish I hadn't seen it. If that makes any sense.

I took an uneasy breath and nodded. "Yes. I have to know." Very slowly, I turned around to face him.

I expected to see a change happen--like before when the masked man transformed into the small boy who became my guide--but nothing came. The shadow reached for me, and then reached _through _me. And I was suddenly somewhere else.

This time I was not a visitor watching a scene, as I had been often before. No, this was more like my first dream, full of longing and despair. This time, I was looking through _his _eyes.

I stood at a sink washing blood off my hands. This sting I felt told me that it was my own… though not entirely. Once the blood was gone, I took a first aid kit out from underneath the sink and found a bandage for the nasty gash on my palm.

Next, I made my way over to an elegant looking desk. The room was magnificent, in an eclectic sort of way… as if the owner took all the best things from each era and set them next to one another. Which, I suppose, was exactly what happened.

Anyway, there was a phone and computer sitting on the desk, but instead I reached for a quill (a _quill_, for heaven's sake!) and parchment and penned a letter…

_To whom it may concern:_

_The task is complete. I expect the second half of my payment in the usual location. Twenty thousand, as we agreed. I trust you do not need a reminder of what will happen should you try to cheat me. _

_Until next time,_

_The Phantom_

Then I used red wax to seal the letter before setting it aside, I assume for later delivery.

"You are hurt," a voice said simply.

"I was careless," I responded. It was strange, hearing _his _voice come from my lips… not to mention the fact that the angel I was talking to looked and sounded _exactly _like me (er… the real me).

"What happened?"

"Nothing. A business deal that had… unexpected complications."

She put a hand to my cheek. It was a gentle touch… but not entirely _there_. It was exactly like how it felt when my shadow man touched me… there, but not quite real. I raised my own hand to cover hers but my hand passed through her like air. Also like my shadow man.

Actually, come to think of it. They did seem awfully similar. Was it a coincidence that I was greeted by a creature clothed in darkness while Erik encountered one shrouded in light?

"You seem troubled, Erik."

"Not trouble, angel, not really. I just grow weary of my latest occupation. It no longer provides the distraction I desire."

"Distraction from… me?"

"No! No, angel… do not be offended, I beg of you! I merely meant to say how badly I need you… and how excruciating it is to wake every morning and realize that I have still not found you."

My angel-counterpart smiled sadly. "If that is the case, dear Erik, then I fear that you will not like what I am to say next."

I felt the same dread that Erik would have felt, as I forced myself to ask, "What is it?"

"This is the last time I will be able to visit you."

A choking sensation, and a blast of cold, pounded through my organs. "_Why_? What have I done to deserve your anger?"

"You have not made me angry. Far from it. But… it is time to begin your search again."

"What do you mean?" I found myself growing angry. "I have searched without ceasing. I have thought of nothing but finding you!"

"But I was not there to be found. It is time. I am here now, Erik, come and find me."

There was a long pause and I felt the chill settle into my bones. I understood the sensation I was feeling through Erik--it was the same sense of cold sickness that kept pulling me back to _him _all these weeks.

"Sing to me," I--he--murmured. "Please, angel? I just want to hear your voice one last time."

My--well, Erik's--voice sounded so broken. I had to wonder what his face looked like just then. But there were no mirrors around.

"It will not be the last time," the angel assured. "When we meet agai--"

"Please. Please do not do this to me, angel." I shook my head and ran elegant fingers over the keys of my grand piano. I sat down and began to play. "I do not know what I will do… how I will be able to live without you… you, who are the one constant in my life… my weakness, my obsession…" I trailed off and looked up at her expectantly.

She sang… and her voice was glorious! Was that how _I_ sounded to Erik when I sang for him? Maybe not… I suppose if I was that good I wouldn't need him to train me.

As the song continued, my vision blurred--I can only assume Erik must have been weeping--and I watched her through fuzzy eyes as she faded out of existence.

Once she was gone entirely, my gaze fell from her empty place to my own fingers as they pounded angrier and angrier chords onto the piano. The bandage around my hand worked free and blood dripped all over the keys. My flying fingers took the bloody droplets and smeared them around until the beautiful keyboard became a sickly, pink mess. I played, more and more franticly, until one of my fingers slipped on a spot of slick blood and caused me to depress a blaringly wrong sounding note.

With a roar of desperate rage, I grabbed the piano under the keyboard and _flipped the entire thing over,_ causing the legs to splinter and a sound of raucous protest to issue from the abused instrument.

As Erik's gaze fluttered manically about the room, I caught a glimpse of his daily calendar. It was difficult to sort through Erik's raging emotions to form my own conscious thought. Still, as I looked at the date, I managed to comprehend something important: _I was born today._

And then… I was back in my own body, back in my own room, with my shadow man standing before me.

It was too much to see him there. I couldn't look at him. This was all just too much to handle. I slipped from my chair to kneel low on the ground and pressed my hands over my eyes.

"What happened then?" I asked. "I get that this… angel… broke his heart. But the killings didn't start for another whole year."

I heard _him _sigh, and put his hand on my head. I flinched, and he pulled back with a sound of misery.

"I could not continue looking. It is funny, really, that I finally had the opportunity to locate you… and I had lost the will to do so. Oh, angel, do not condemn poor Erik so quickly! He held off for as long as he could. Each day the madness took over another small part of him… but he staved it off as long as possible.

"But then, on the anniversary of _that horrible day_, I could not stay in my home any longer, and so I took a walk to obtain supplies."

"What happened then?" I wondered.

"A… group of young men… attempted to ambush me. A man, walking alone, in a darkened alley, seemed a perfect candidate for robbery."

"So you killed them?"

"Not all. If I had, Erik would never have been caught. The events of the evening are somewhat unclear. They were simply members of the human race… and were once again trying to take advantage of Erik. And I knew a hatred that I had never known before."

Then he made a motion, that I could only assume was a shrug (it's hard to tell with ghosts, you see). "And, without my angel to hold me back, I had no reason not to give in… not to remember the goodness in the small piece of my soul I still carried with me. My vision turned red as destroyed the young men, one by one."

"But you didn't stop there," I said stated softly.

"No. I finally understood why the Erlking and his daughters so often did what they did. The power there was… it was a pleasure more intense than anything I have ever experienced. I could never describe to you the burning relief of giving into the darkness the Erlking had breathed into me so long ago. And so, I did it again. And again. And probably would have continued, had not the survivors of my first encounter been so diligent in assisting the authorities to apprehend me."

I didn't bother to ask what an 'Erlking' was. It didn't matter. I knew too much, already.

"Please leave." My request sounded a lot more helpless than commanding… but it worked, nonetheless.

I waited until I knew he was gone before I broke down and started crying. I deserved a good cry. I'd earned it.

The sense of guilt was overwhelming. It was all my fault. I had nothing to do with it… but it was still my fault. I couldn't understand that, really, but that didn't change it. Nothing could change it. Erik's madness… all those lives… my very existence caused it all.

_If only I had never been born…_

No. I had to stop that train of thought before it led down darker paths. I shook my head violently, as if to throw the bad thoughts from my brain. _What's done is done…_

But the very fact that I could do nothing to make it right seemed to thrust me even further into despair.

God must have known what I needed just then, because at that exact moment, the phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Hey sweetheart, it's Raoul."

"Oh. Hi."

"Christine? Have you been crying?"

"It's… nothing. What did you need?"

"Well, I have a conference this weekend in Point Mapleside… and I was wondering if you might like to join me. Remember that old beach house we used to go to in the summer?"

"Yeah, I do. Actually, I was headed there right now. It's the anniversary of dad's… well… I just wanted to go spend some time there, you know? It was his favorite place."

"Oh… well, do you want to meet up sometime? I mean, unless you wanted to be alone…"

"No! I mean, yes. I mean… I really would like your company if you wanted to stop by."

"Cool! Awesome. Well, I'll see you there."

"Okay, that sounds fine."

"Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yeah. I'm looking forward to it, that's all."

"Me too… it'll be just like old times, you think?"

"Yep. Old times. See you later."

"Bye!"

His call made me feel surprisingly better. It made me feel like there was a little hope left in the world, after all. Without concentrating too much on clothes, I dumped a couple of my drawers out into a suitcase and took off.

It felt good to drive…to leave. To the ocean… to Raoul… to freedom. Far away from the craziness, from my bad dreams, from my shadow man… far away from the guilt and the fear and the despair.

Far away from _him_.


	19. Chapter 19

**Christine**

The beach house has always been such a peaceful place. My great aunt left it to Daddy when she died, and the Chagney family stepped in and helped us pay off the mortgage so we were able to keep it. After that, it became something of a vacation home for both our families. Dad and I used to spend time their every summer--we'd wander around the beach and I'd sing for passersby while he accompanied me on the violin. Raoul and his family used to join us, back before they moved away. They weren't much fans of playing music on the beach, so they spent the daytime exploring the shops in the little town, and then we'd all merge back together again for dinner.

Poor Raoul--the last thing a boy wants to do is spend a weekend knick-knack shopping with his sisters--escaped as often as possible to hang out with Dad and me by the ocean. In between songs, Dad would think up the greatest stories to tell us.

You know, I think that's where Raoul and I really started to connect. The rest of the time, back in the real world, we had nothing in common. But out here, on the beach, it was just us--no school cliques or social barriers or vastly different interests--just the three of us, telling stories and making music.

But thisvisit was a lot different. Raoul should have warned me of how huge this convention was going to be. I don't know what I was thinking--maybe a group of boring businessmen trying to boost morale by holding meetings at the beach?--but there had to be like a gazillion people there!

_Hmm. Well, that's frustrating. Perhaps I'll be staying inside for the weekend._

I suppose the idea wasn't _too _distasteful. I wanted peace and time alone. Besides, even though the purpose of this trip was to pay my respects, the beach would still probably bring back too many memories, and I refused to sing without Daddy.

_Or Erik, _my traitorous mind reminded me. It was true, though. Singing with Erik made me forget every troublesome thing in my life.

The confusing part was that, before this, it just didn't feel right to sing. Like I should feel guilty for making music now that Dad was dead. That's why I quit school--I couldn't bring myself to sing, knowing he wasn't even in the world to hear it.

But with Erik… wow… not only did singing feel good again, but when it was over, I didn't feel like I was betraying my dad at all. It felt like… well, I imagined that if he was around, he'd approve somehow.

My feelings were confusing me. But, despite how wonderful it was to have my voice back again, I couldn't allow myself to forget that it was _he _who gave it to me. Erik was dangerous, I could no longer deny it. His obsession with me caused him to kill countless people.

That was a sobering thought.

I tried to shake the bad thoughts out of my head and got to work opening up the house. The place was empty the majority of the year, so it always needed a bit of love and attention whenever we first got there. I pulled the coverings off the furniture and set about dusting everything and turning on appliances. I was thankful for the work as it kept my mind off the rest of my life.

So far, Erik had been true to his word about leaving me alone. Without the worry of shadow angels sneaking up on me or creepy little boys trying to hang my friends, my mind was free to wander toward more pleasant things.

Raoul.

I really was fond of that boy. I had not expected to see him again and it was great to have him back. I had been a terrible friend lately, always putting him off and ignoring his calls. Erik's demands had taken up a lot of my attention.

_Well that changes here and now_.

I resolved to treat Raoul better when I saw him next. I found myself grinning like an idiot when I heard him jostling the front door open.

--

We had a terrific time together. Actually, I don't remember the last time I had so much fun.

Raoul, despite the fact that he was here on business in the first place, skipped his meetings so we could go play on beach before the evening crowd.

"Come on, little Lotte!" he called from the water, "Come swimming with me!"

I shook my head and waved my book in the air. I really wasn't reading… but I didn't bring a swimsuit and I sure as heck wasn't going in the water without one.

He just shook his head at my refusal and, with a cheeky grin, came walking out of the ocean toward me.

_That is one beautiful man_, I thought appreciatively as he emerged from the water. Raoul had always been gorgeous, but the years since high school had done wonderful things for him. I couldn't say the same for myself, what with the freshman fifteen and the occasional spell of acne still haunting me as a reminder of my awkward teenage years. But Raoul… oh my… nobody should be allowed to look that good outside of Hollywood.

And the way he was looking at _me _was…

Oh no.

_Oh no oh no oh no…_

"No!" I screeched, scrambling backwards in the sand to get away from him.

"Oh yes," he said mischievously as he threw me over his shoulder and carried me, kicking and screaming and fully dressed, right back with him into the water.

"Raoul! Quit it! I'm going to get soaked!"

"Yep. Serves you right for not coming when I called you in the first place."

I smacked him, but the smile on my face probably took some of the power out of it. "Come when you called? I'm not a dog!"

"Most certainly not," he agreed soberly before putting his hand on the crown of my head and dunking me fully into the salty water.

And that is how I ended up sopping wet, having a splash fight with my gorgeous ex-boyfriend.

--

An hour or so later, Raoul offered to go get me a soda while I dried off and reapplied my sunscreen. I wasn't particularly thirsty, but he was trying to give me a bit of privacy, considering my awkward state of dress, so I appreciated the gesture. He also let me steal the shirt he had worn here but removed before getting in the water. I watched suspiciously for onlookers before changing out of my wet top and into his dry one as quickly as possible.

Then I shivered, wondering why the clothing, which had been sitting in the sun, was absolutely freezing on my skin. I had a very disturbing thought… but I dismissed it as soon as I could. There was nothing wrong with Raoul's shirt… I'm sure the cool water was finally getting to me. Still, I wrapped a towel around my shoulders, hoping he wouldn't ask why. It's not like I would complain, since Raoul had been so gentlemanly to give it to me in the first place.

Raoul was being so great. This whole experience was making me feel like we were kids again.

As I thought this, my fingers brushed against the warm ring on my finger. _No, when we were kids I didn't have _this _looming over me._

I became rather frustrated at that thought. I had come here to get away from Erik, and yet it seemed like he was always invading my thoughts. Maybe that was why I was having so much fun with Raoul… we were so busy being silly that I didn't really have time to sit and think.

But that's just what I was doing now.

I might not be feeling the normal effects of separation from Erik… but I was still nervous, for some reason. The more I thought about him, the more scary he seemed. I found myself getting kind of jumpy, even though I _knew _he wasn't around. And I was always avoiding shadows, even though I was sure he wasn't hiding in them.

I've heard, sometimes, that when you are afraid of someone, you start to exaggerate the things that scare you. Was I doing that now? I guess it didn't matter--even _if _I was able to convince myself that he was harmless (which he wasn't), my survival instincts refused to let me relax.

Which is why I screamed when Raoul snuck up behind me and put his hands over my eyes, saying, "Guess who?"

At my over-the-top reaction he pulled back and, slightly less confidently said, "Sorry… I didn't mean to freak you out like that. What's the matter?"

I ignored him. He didn't need to know that I was still obsessing over the guy he told me to forget about forever ago. "You're back! What took you so long?"

He shuddered. "Old lady wanted me to meet her niece. Thought we'd make a cute couple."

I found myself rather amused at the green pallor his skin had taken. "Oh? And how cute of a couple would you make?"

"I dunno. I was scared to find out."

"Was she that intimidating? Let me guess… tall, athletic, a smile to remember…"

"Er… yeah. Well kind of. She's got about four inches on me… captain of her school's logger sports team, and missing more teeth than she's got."

"You're kidding me?"

"Not even! I was scared! What if she'd decided I was her boyfriend and carried me off into the sunset right then and there? There would have been nothing I could have done to stop it!"

By then, I was laughing outright. "Aw, poor Raoul. And I wasn't even there to protect you."

He just flopped down beside me with a melodramatic sigh. I took a moment to curse how his hair fell naturally into that look of artful disarray. Between the humidity and the saltwater, mine had become a giant, blond rats nest that I would be trying to work a brush through for at least an hour if I didn't get home and find some conditioner asap. Stupid hair.

"Oh Christine!" he moaned dramatically, putting the back of his hand to his forehead like a fainting lady, "I was so very alone and afraid out there!" I had to laugh at that. He was so funny when he got all theatric on me.

"You're a good man, Raoul," I sighed, when I finally caught my breath. "Someday we're going to find the perfect girl for you."

My tone had been friendly and affectionate, like you'd talk to a brother or childhood friend--which he was, I told myself--but Raoul immediately tensed.

"Yeah," he said in clipped tones, "sure. You get right on that." He paused and glared at me, as if I was supposed to say something, but I had no idea what. In the end, he sighed and ran a hand through that infuriatingly perfect hair. "Well I guess I better get started then, hmm? I'm going to head down to that bar we passed, see if I can find a date for the party tomorrow."

He eyed me sideways. What was I supposed to say? It almost sounded like he was trying to make me jealous… but that really didn't make sense, right? We hadn't been together as more than 'just friends' in years. We'd moved on. Well, _he'd _moved on. I was the one still pining after him, despite Meg's valiant efforts to find me someone new. But, I wasn't about to tell him that!

I shrugged. He made a frustrated grunting sound and walked off, every muscle radiating tension.

I stared at the sand for several minutes, wondering how the afternoon had gone downhill so quickly. _What on earth was _that _about?_

Not knowing what else to do, I headed back to the house. If nothing else, I had to get this shirt off before I froze to death.

--

Hours later, Raoul came home. He seemed a great deal more relaxed, and had probably kept a spare set of clothes in his car, because he wasn't half naked anymore, even though I knew he hadn't come back since he left the beach.

But what I noticed above all that other stuff was the big, red, hand-shaped welt on the side of his face.

He saw me gaping at it, and asked awkwardly, "Um… do we have any ice?"

I nodded stupidly and walked to the freezer. "What happened?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all, which I guess was the problem. I met a lady at the bar who was looking for a date for the company party tomorrow."

"And she hit you?"

"No… well, yes, but not yet. We got to talking and she accused me of not paying enough attention to her. She said my mind was obviously on… um… _something else_. Yeah, that's it. And so I told her 'Hey! You wanted a date and I asked you, didn't I?' I mean, I did what she wanted, right? But she said she didn't want to be with me if _she _wasn't the one I was thinking about. So, I shrugged and went and found another girl. Anyway, she must have seen me, because she walked up, right out of the blue, and slappedme across the face."

I laughed at him. Raoul always had such potential to be a ladies man, he was such a charmer. I imagine if he hadn't been committed to being my boyfriend in high school, he could have dated any and every girl he wanted--a fact that always had me feeling more confused (why me?) than jealous. So, he must have been pretty distracted today to act so clueless.

"Raoul! There's your problem! You can't just walk up to a woman and say 'you'll do'. That's a terrible way to attract a woman!"

"Maybe I just didn't see any women worth attracting?" he said, voice suddenly lowered.

"What---" any protest my addled mind would have come up with was immediately silenced as his lips pressed against mine.

It would have been nice--it _should _have been nice… I'd kissed him plenty of times back in high school and it was always pleasant--but I was suddenly washed over with the most intense feeling of cold I'd ever experienced. It was like someone just shoved an icicle through my chest. I pushed him away with a little more violence than necessary.

"Christine?" His brows were furrowed; he didn't look hurt, really… just kind of confused.

"I can't…" I insisted, rather lamely.

His confusion deepened. "Why not?" he asked, "we're both single, and you can't deny the attraction between us… there is no reason why we can't just pick up where we left off."

He was right, in a sense. There really was no reason why we couldn't be together again. No explainable reason, anyway. Somehow I thought 'you make me cold' wouldn't fly with him.

I settled on, "I just can't. There's too much going on right now…"

I could practically _see _the light bulb that popped on in his head. "Is this about that mental patient?"

"Yes… I mean no… I mean… I'm afraid, okay? And I'm confused. And… and there's just a lot to think about."

Raoul took my shoulders so that I was looking at him directly. "Listen to me, Christine. That has absolutely _nothing _to do with this. Nothing to do with _us_. Why are you letting it stop you from living your life?"

I did my best not to cringe. His touch was actually painful--like stabbing needles all over my skin. I shivered but stubbornly refused to pull away. Unfortunately, he took my trembling the wrong way and pulled me in closer to his chest.

"I just can't stop thinking about him."

I felt Raoul's whole body tense and could hear the sneer in his voice as he asked, "Why? Are you in love with him or something?"

At last I took the chance to shove him away from me.

"No! Of course not! Don't you get it? I'm losing my mind! I'm seeing him everywhere, and having those… dreams and those hallucinations and… I'm scared, Raoul. It's like a bad horror movie that I can't pull myself out of. _He _is everywhere. How could I possibly concentrate on a relationship when I can't get _him _out of my head?"

"Christine, _he _is locked up."

"So you think I'm crazy?"

"I didn't say that. I just think that…" he sighed and then took my hands again. "Look, I know this bothers you, that's why I told you to quit that job a long time ago." I frowned. _Really, Raoul? Is this _really_ a good time for 'I told you so'?_

To his credit, he instantly realized his mistake and put his hands up in a placating gesture. "Wait, that came out wrong. What I mean to say is that, maybe you are taking too much on yourself. This is bothering you too much to think clearly. What if I…"

"What if you what?"

"Let me take care of you. You won't have to be afraid, then. Just… trust me to protect you."

His words touched something in me, deep down. That is what I had wanted for so long. Especially now… I desperately wanted someone to protect me. I didn't want to think of all this… _this. _It's a terribly cliché analogy to make--but his offer felt like an oasis in the desert.

And yet I couldn't get that image of his strangled body out of my mind.

"I'll… think about it," I said finally.

"No, don't just 'think about it'. Trust me, okay? Haven't I always known what was best for you?"

Why, oh why, can I not think for myself? Why is it so _easy _to let people push me around?

But Raoul was right. I think. He'd always been sweet and gentle and easy to talk to, and he's always gone out of his way to protect me.

And he probably did know better than I did. Maybe if I was a stronger personality, I would never have gotten myself into this mess in the first place. But Raoul was strong and resolute. He could _make _me resist the pull I felt to Erik. He would take me away and hide me until I got over it. And he would do it, even if my fickle self told him not to.

"I suppose it is for the best."

"Darn straight. Now, how about you kiss me again and we forget this whole thing for awhile."

"I'd like to," I answered. _But it might make me sick. _"But I'm kind of tired at the moment. I'm going to head off to bed." At his hurt expression, I added jokingly, "We can make out till your heart's content in the morning, kay?"

--

I was exhausted, and rightfully so, and fell asleep almost immediately upon reaching my room. However, only a few hours passed before I woke up again.

Surprisingly, it was not a dream that woke me, but rather, a lack of dreams. Really. There was a time when I welcomed peace like that… but I had grown accustomed to seeing Erik (in all his different forms) that I just ended up feeling suspicious. Something just didn't _feel_ right.

I touched the ring on my hand, a comforting gesture that reminded me that I was free--albeit for only a short time. But, instead of the familiar warmth I expected, my hand began to tingle uncomfortably.

I flipped on the light in time to watch as the gold ring cracked into pieces and fell off my finger. I reflexively moved to catch the falling shards but, as soon as they hit the ground, they melted and disappeared entirely.

Then the 'pull' was back in full force, and with it, a sense of dread that I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. I was compelled to go back--my very being demanded it--but I was terrified of what I would find.

Was it a coincidence, and accident, or did Erik know what I had been doing there? Did he know that I was seeing Raoul? Could _he _have heard my conversation with him about leaving Erik? No, that didn't make sense… Erik said he'd leave me alone for three days…

But now that the ring was gone, there was no doubt there would be trouble.

I peeked out my door and saw that Raoul had gone to bed. I felt bad leaving him like this, but he wouldn't have let me leave, and I didn't want to bring any more trouble on him than I already had. If, in the morning, he was still serious about wanting to be with me, he'd know where to look.

--

I think I was driving way too fast on my way home. I don't remember, though; I was too busy counting my heartbeats, willing them to slow down.

The ring was gone--literally dissolved off my finger--and I didn't know what that meant for me… just that I had to see Erik and I had to see him _now_.

Raoul had made a good point when he insisted that Erik was locked up. Or, at least it would have been a good point if I was still thinking in within the realm of what is possible and probable. But I had stopped thinking that way the moment I saw Erik's scars. For me, the universe no longer fell into categories of possible and impossible. Erik could cross over those boundaries. No… Erik _obliterated _those boundaries.

I was reasonably sure he wouldn't hurt me. He wouldn't be able to, if I truly did possess a piece of his soul.

But… that didn't mean that I was not in a world of trouble. There are many ways to destroy someone without _hurting _them… and Erik was very creative. Would he go after my friends, perhaps? Shadow-Erik was extremely jealous of the slightest attention--would the real Erik be the same?

_No, _I told myself, _you are just overreacting. He's probably still locked up, waiting for you to come back and visit. _

Yes. That was it. He was just waiting for me to come by. And I would! I would stop by the hospital and surprise him with an early visit. He was always so childishly eager for my visits--perhaps I could utilize that to make him forget about the ring.

First, though, I would have to go home and take a shower. Sounds like a dumb thing to do, considering my urgency, doesn't it? But the ghost had been able to smell it when I spent that short time alone with Mr. Winsor. How much worse would it be since I had actually _touched _and _kissed _Raoul? I couldn't take the risk of Erik finding out.

So I went home first.

The house was quiet and lonely like it always was and, not for the first time, I found myself wishing I had a roommate or a dog or something. I shook the silly thoughts out of my head and unlocked the door. At least my brain was able to contemplate the lighter things in life. That was something, right? Maybe there was hope for me yet.

My contemplations over the solitude of my house was cut short when my cell started ringing. I spent an awkward couple of moments shuffling around my keys and purse before I answered. Even before I said 'hello' I got Meg's panicked voice.

"Oh Christine, you're there! I was afraid you wouldn't be able to answer!"

"Um… yeah… I'm here. What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"Yes, I think so. At least so far. I'm still trying to get a hold of Mom and some friends from work. Have you heard, yet?"

"Heard what? I mean… I've been gone out of town. I just got back right now."

"It doesn't matter. Turn on the TV."

"I will later, I just have to--"

"No! Do it _now. _Channel 6."

Sighing over her overdramatic attitude--_I really don't need this right now--_I did as she asked and flipped on the television.

_---right now the police are focusing on the downtown area, trying to retrace the steps of the man's original crime spree, back in 1988, in hopes of discovering _some _sort of lead. _

I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. The reporter's voice cut to a phone interview with the Chief of Police.

"_In cases such as these, we suspect that the individual may try and revisit the same places he frequented before his arrest. After spending so much time out of society, we think he might try to seek out familiar locations. A lot has changed in twenty years… the city doesn't look like it used to."_

The reporter took over again.

_Once again, for those of you just joining us: A high-security mental patient has escaped today from the Snowdrop Institute. _

_Thus far, no witnesses have been found who can describe the individual who, according to the police, always has his face covered. _

_Law enforcement officials would like to remind people not to panic, but to stay alert of any suspicious activity that might be going on around them. This individual is believed to be _extremely _dangerous. If you do encounter someone whom you believe to be the fugitive, _do not approach him_ under any circumstances. Immediately call 911 or---"_

The television cut out.

"Meg?" I asked nervously.

No answer. I looked down at my phone: _Call dropped, no signal_. I started to dial again, but I heard the sound of all the windows and doors slamming shut at once… and locking… and the phone fell to the floor.

And then I heard a voice that sounded very familiar, very _real_… and all too predatory.

"Hello, Christine."


	20. Part Three Erik

Probably not the cliffhanger resolution you expected, but the next chapter will be ready shortly... so, I'll get there.

* * *

**Erik**

I was not supposed to fall in love with her.

To be perfectly truthful, I had not believed it possible. By the time I had fled the Erlking's palace, as a child, I had already lost so much of myself that I should nothave been capable of such a thing.

_But then, there was one who foresaw a situation like this, wasn't there? _

Three of the Erlking's daughters had met with me the day I left the forest. We all knew I would never return and, in all actuality, no one was certain if I would even survive my escape, and so our farewell was one of absolute finality. As such, the sisters each gave me a parting gift to remember them by.

My first friend, the siren, gave me my voice.

She and I shared an affinity for music that the others would not have understood. You see, the siren had the most seductive voice you could imagine. She could entrance a man with a single spoken word.

And that was precisely the problem. The poor lady had no control over the immense power her voice wielded. She had no friends, for how could she have a conversation with someone if her voice caused their eyes to glaze over and their minds to become putty? Perhaps her sisters would have talked with her, but their interests focused on the men and children of the palace, rather than each other. Occasionally they would recruit her to sing and play for one of their dances--her song could illicit the most lively of feelings--but otherwise, they left her alone.

To my knowledge, I was the only one who was able to resist the pull of her song. And so she was kinder to me than rest of the Erlking's daughters, who were resentful of my status as heir. In return, I granted her with as much of my company as the king would allow.

She gave me a voice that could wield as much power as her own. Yet, the same willfulness that allowed me to resist _her _voice, gave me the ability to control my own, a feat she could not master. I could have a normal conversation, if I wished. But, at my own discretion, my singing could calm a troubled soul or bring on violent madness.

Whenever I reflected on the moment of our parting, I would silently thank her.

The dancer and I did not have such an immediate connection. In truth, she hated me for the majority of the time I spent in the palace. The Erlking held a twisted sort of affection for me, more than he did for his own daughters, and she blamed me for it.

But, when her father left her to die in the forest, I helped her. I proved to her that I was not like _him_. And she began to see me in a different light.

She, too, gave me a parting gift. She gave me gracefulness that rivaled her own. I am more dexterous, faster, and more agile than the average man. My body obeys me easily while others are not so coordinated. It is because of her gift that I can move so quickly and silently; I can play the violin or kill a man with the same amount of precision and--dare I say it?--beauty.

More than once I have issued a silent thanks to her as well.

But then there was the warm lady--the surrogate mother to all the children and the first friendly face I met as I woke, for the first time, in the Erlking's palace.

For her gift, I found myself less thankful.

"_So much anger in you, child," she murmured. "I do not fear you… I fear _for _you. You are so young to possess so much hatred. It hurts me to see you so broken."_

I remember feeling such bitterness upon hearing her words. It was as if the entire farewell had been soured by her reminder of my lost innocence.

"_I gift you with a heart, my child. Despite everything… you will have the ability to love. Whether you can be loved is up to you. But know that, if you reach for it, the capability is no longer beyond you."_

A heart. At the time, I just _knew _she was mocking me. After what the Erlking had done to me, love was simply not possible. And yet she held it in front of my face and teased me with it. She even went so far as to remind me that I was so destroyed that I might not even be capable of _being _loved.

It never once occurred to me that she could have been sincere. The idea that she might have restored just enough of the goodness the Erlking had taken from me that I might have a chance at feeling the same things as any other man… I never even entertained the thought.

But here I was, in love, and feeling Christine's betrayal all the way into my bones.

I could not explain it. I had planned to die once she returned the missing half of my soul. She was merely a carrier… why should I care who she associates with? After I died, should she not be free to be courted by a man?

Somehow, though, the mere thought of another man touching her made my mind explode with rage. I released a cry of pain, and then found myself smiling slightly when I heard the answering wails from the cells beside me. My voice could not only manipulate actions but force emotions, and it brought me a sick pleasure to share my anguish with the others. Misery loves company, after all.

I had always known I would die once my quest was completed. I still lived only because my soul had nowhere else to go--you can't very well send half a soul to Heaven, now can you? Or Hell, I suppose. But a body can only take so much punishment, and it is not designed to hold out for so many years. I figured that, when I became mortal again, all the years of abuse would catch up with me and my old age would finally finish me off. If not that, I thought I might consider taking my own life anyway. Without this mission, I had nothing to live for.

Except… _her_.

I hadn't always known that my soul and my angel were one--I just had this uncontrollable need to find them _both_.

I don't know why the angel was so important, to be honest, as I'd never had any concrete evidence that she was any more than a figment of my imagination. But ever since the Erlking had shown me my first vision of her and promised her to me… I just _knew _that she had to exist. She was real and she was mine and that was all there was to it.

I begun to imagine what it would be like when I found her--once my spirit was complete again. I imagined that she might let me rest in her arms… that she might pet my head and sing to me as I died. Most importantly, I imagined that she might cry for me when I was gone. I needed that. I was not searching for love, I just wanted someone to think a kind thought for Erik in the end.

But then she would be free. Free to go up to Heaven or to go on living and find someone to make her happy. I would only be… borrowing… her gentleness.

But that was before. Before she shared a meal with me, and sang for me, and greeted me with a smile. The day my angel morphed into my _Christine, _my world changed, and suddenly I found myself not so eager for death.

Christine was perfect. Everything wonderful, wrapped into one. She carried my soul, she was promised to me, and I…

And I loved her.

Somehow, I was no longer as resentful of the warm lady's gift. It wasn't a curse… not like the Erlking's 'gift' was. It was… it was a _blessing_.

_But a painful blessing_, I mused as nausea washed over me. I leaned over the toilet and emptied the meager contents of my stomach before rolling onto the ground in the fetal position, trying to withstand the thousand icy knives attacking my insides.

Christine and I were bonded, in a sense. That was why she suffered when she was away from me. It was different before we met, she did not feel a thing before she knew I existed. But, once my soul recognized the proximity of its other half, it rebelled against another separation--it attacked us both in a very physical way.

Out of love, I had given Christine freedom. But it came at a price. I gave her a magic ring--a symbol of my permission for her to leave. In doing so, I took the full punishment of the bond upon myself. I gave her three days of peace. Three days because I knew I could not bear it for longer without snapping the few remaining strands of sanity I still possessed. I would have given her more, if I could. I would have given her everything.

_It hurts_, I told myself. Then I added, _but I love her. _I repeated it twice before giving in to another scream. The weeping in the cells beside mine increased in volume. My emotions must have been too much for them.

I squeezed my eyes shut until tears leaked out, and I gripped my head so hard that my fingernails caused my scalp to bleed. _It hurts, but I love her. _

But the moment she betrayed me, everything changed.

In my suffering I had been clinging to hope and love and thoughts of her. But suddenly all of those thoughts were forcibly ripped away from me and replaced with despair and this sense of suffocation.

Something was wrong, I knew. Was she in an accident? Had she been hurt?

I stood on shaky legs and determined to do something that hadn't crossed my mind in a long time.

--

Escaping the asylum was ridiculously easy. I always knew it would be, I just never bothered to try before. I focused my thoughts on the electricity in the building, picturing it as a grid with dots of light speeding down the planes. I found the line that represented the alarm system and plucked it like a harp. Immediately a siren went off, alerting staff that _someone, somewhere _in the building, had reported an emergency requiring the evacuation of the facility.

Over the next four minutes, all occupants would be shuttled outside, to the very far corner of the recreation area.

Except us.

Which was what I was counting on.

Officially, the high-security ward was insulated with fire-proof walls and heavily reinforced to withstand an explosive, earthquake, or collapse of the building.

Officially.

In all reality, if a fire were to break out, we would be expected to stay put like good little children and burn to death. I would burn, but not to death… and how miserable would that be?

But first I could expect a very important visit from Dr. Moncharmin.

But perhaps, first a word about the good doctor. Armand Moncharmin arrived at the asylum shortly before I did, although back then he was a bright-eyed young specialist, ready to heal the world with his highly praised doctoring skills--a far cry away from the jaded manager you'd see today. But the promotions came and, with them, the supreme authority and resulting omniscience. In the end, it leaves you with a man who is exceptionally difficult to work with.

Dr. Moncharmin and I had a love-hate relationship. He hated me--of course, who doesn't?--but I found myself with a grudging respect for him. He had a sharp mind and a strong will, more so than your average mortal, and was surprisingly difficult to manipulate. Usually, my voice had a hypnotic quality, when I intended it to be so. Speak the right words in the right tone and people became quite suggestible. I could have someone following my instructions for days without even realizing it.

Moncharmin, on the other hand, resisted my control more than I thought possible. Of course, I could still force him to do what I wished, but it was not nearly as effortless as it was with everyone else. If I were to keep him under my complete control, he would need to return every few hours for me to reinforce my hold on his mind. He fed my creativity, really; I was constantly having to come up with new ways to intimidate him.

I smirked when I heard the hall door click open. I knew he would come. Before fleeing the building himself, he would check on us one last time. If for no other reason than to ensure that his favorite patients were fully confined and unable to break out of the cells. After all, we couldn't very well have a patient use an emergency like this as a means for escape, now could we? No, sir.

"Why doctor, how pleasant of you to join us!" I said cheerfully. The speaker did not have to be on for me to be heard--hence, why the other patients had no difficulty hearing me through the thick walls.

"I am sure you know why I am here, Erik," he answered, rather coldly in my opinion.

"Of course. You have come to let us out, haven't you?"

He chuckled. "Even now you cannot be serious." I watched him take out a key and begin manually locking each door, ensuring the doors would stay closed even in case of a power outage.

By the time he reached my door, I was grinning outright. "No, I am afraid I am quite serious this time, doctor." I looked deeply into his eyes and spoke slowly. "You have come to release me."

"N-no… I…"

I started humming a little tune and watched his eyes glaze over. He slowly took his key-card, slid it over the panel, and typed in a series of codes on the number pad.

The door opened easily and the doctor stepped aside so that I might emerge. For a second, my hand hovered over his neck, my instincts telling me to touch him and bring death. At the last moment, though, I changed my mind, softly uttering the word 'sleep' and watching him fall to the ground, snoring loudly. I heard soft snores coming from a few others as well; it would seem that a few of the weaker-minded individuals also succumbed to my suggestion, right there in their cells.

The doctor would wake up soon--resistant as he was--but not soon enough to make a difference. I delighted in the moment when he would wake and inevitably realize the beautiful irony that _he _was the one to let me go in the end. And the fact that the emergency that prompted him to do so was a complete hoax. Would it be enough to drive _him _mad?

I liked to think so.

--


	21. Chapter 21

**Erik**

I could not very well go running haphazardly after Christine, despite how much I wanted to. I needed things--clothes, money, a plan.

_A shower_, my mind prodded eagerly. Twenty years with a sink and an occasional bar of soap makes one appreciate the luxury of being truly _clean_. I was lucky that my hair had fallen out back when I… transformed… otherwise I'd have been a real mess.

_But if she was in trouble_…

Too true. The adrenaline pumping through my veins had not lessened my pain, but had made raised my tolerance to it enough that I was able to think clearly. I needed to get to her as soon as possible, but a masked man, half dressed in a hospital garment, sprinting down the street with no sense of direction other than the innate pull toward his other half… well, you can imagine how well that would go.

So I took a moment to reach into Moncharmin's coat pocket and take his keys.

Yes, perhaps it was insult to injury… but I needed a vehicle, and his was most convenient.

--

Much had changed about the city in twenty years, but I was reasonably certain my home remained untouched. About twenty five years earlier, I had been the architectural mastermind behind the building of a new town concert hall. As such, I had taken the liberty of placing dozens of hidden corridors and cellars under the building that I secretly disguised and guarded with booby-traps. In the heavily armored midst of this labyrinth lay my little flat, which had been my safe and private sanctuary for the few years prior to my… breakdown… and subsequent capture.

Sure enough, the house was exactly how I left it. There was a layer of dust over everything, and the technology was long obsolete, but no human touch had crossed the place, which was the important part. My secrets were safe.

I do not know what I would have done if I'd returned to find my home had been discovered. Best not to think about it.

I took several deep breaths; adrenaline or no, my body was rebelling against my every action. It was like I was fighting myself, my mind and body warring between wanting to be close to my angel, and wanting to curl back in on myself like I had in my cell.

_It hurts, but I love her_, I reminded myself, bracing against the wall as another wave of pain began. This would not do, I did not have the time to be hindered by my own body.

I had never allowed my flesh to rule me before. I briefly permitted my mind to wander, thinking of the time I had refused to kneel before the son of a lesser French royal. I had been starved for weeks before he threw me into a field and set his hunting dogs after me, all the while insisting that he would end the torture if I would kneel just once.

Did I give in, then? No, of course not! I turned around and spoke to the dogs, instructing them to turn on their master instead. They ripped him to shreds before my eyes. Pompous fool.

The point is that I had lived through pain before and kept a clear head. Perhaps it was not as bad as the soul twisting agony I was feeling then, but the principle was the same. I endured that and I could endure this.

I only had to get my mind off of it.

_Think, Erik. She said she was going to a house on the sea. Unless things have changed, Point Mapleside should be the closest beach. _

There. I had a general direction. And once I arrived, I would simply allow instinct to lead me to her.

I took a leather briefcase from my desk so that I could prepare for whatever I might encounter on my way. But how much preparation should I allow myself? Was I making a mistake, coming back here and fiddling around with supplies when she could be in trouble? On the other hand, I would hate to go running into a situation unprepared.

I wondered what _had _happened to Christine. Perhaps knowing the nature of her predicament would tell me how to proceed. I was beginning to sense that she was probably not in immediate danger, but maybe she was injured or had fallen ill during our separation. I believed I would have felt any change to her through our bond--so, perhaps someone had merely been rude to her. Somehow, though, I suspected it was more serious than hurt feelings.

And so I closed my eyes and concentrated. I blocked out all other distractions--the pinging of the vents, the smell of dust--and focused on my connection with Christine. After a moment, quick flashes started to come to me, as if in a dream.

_At the beach… she was laughing… splashing around in the water with a handsome young man…_

_She was in the arms of the same young man, looking lost and seeking comfort._

"…_I'm losing my mind! I'm seeing him everywhere, and having those… dreams and those hallucinations and… I'm scared, Raoul. It's like a bad horror movie that I can't pull myself out of. He is everywhere. How could I possibly concentrate on a relationship when I can't get him out of my head?"_

"_Let me take care of you. You won't have to be afraid, then. Just… trust me to protect you."_

I pulled out of the vision… more like staggered out of the vision… and collapsed onto the ground.

She was not injured, not in danger. No, the attack I felt was because she had _betrayed _me.

Grief and rage were tugging at me from all directions. _She deceived to me… she gave her heart to another… she does not love Erik…_

I moved up to a sitting position, with my back against the wall, and focused onto the bond once more. Only, this time I was not looking for information. This time I reached out to our connection with a more specific purpose.

"Return to me, Christine," I commanded softly. "I rescind my permission. I call back what is mine."

Two things happened then: my pain decreased by half, and a gold ring materialized in the palm of my hand.

And then I stood with a new sense of resolve. Christine would be returning home soon, and I intended to meet her there.

--

I recognized her house immediately--I had been seeing it in my dreams for years. I wonder if Christine knew that? She had seen glimpses of my life over the past months since she met me… but I had been privy to _her _experiences, centuries before she was even born. How else would I have known such private details from her childhood? I knew that girl better than she knew herself.

It felt odd, finding the little house, and I could not stop the overwhelming feelings of 'what if'. What if I had been stronger? What if I had not broken? What if I could have held on just a _little _longer? I was so foolish… I had been strong for _hundreds _of years, only to break the moment she was born. I had spent centuries trying to find her, only to give up when she was actually alive to be found!

_But, so what? _I scolded myself. What _if _all that had been different? What would I have done _then_? Would I have kidnapped a baby? I had seen every moment of Christine's life… would I have even been able to steal that life from her? Even if I found a way to return her in the end, even if she was too young to remember, her life would never be the same. The kidnapping of a child is a devastating thing, no matter what age they are. I should know. Though I had not been around to see my family's reaction to my disappearance, if it affected them even a tenth of the way it affected me…

Perhaps--though I _still _cringe to think it--this was all for the best. Maybe it was God, protecting us both… keeping me away from Christine until she was old enough to make her own choices.

_Some choices, indeed._

That thought was enough to bring my thoughts back to the present. Christine's choices over the last few days had not been wise ones. She had abandoned me, taken advantage of the gift I gave her. Her freedom was a sacrifice to me. A great one. But one I gave freely. Surely that would have been enough to prove my feelings to her.

And _still _she betrayed me.

She worse than betrayed me. Not only did she take up with _that boy_, but she accepted his protection. From me. She told him she was afraid of me. I thought we were friends… that we had made progress in the time we spent together at the hospital. But it was all a lie. She was terrified of me… so much that she would run into the arms of another man, begging him to protect her.

Why could she not understand? I loved her. I would never harm her.

_The boy, on the other hand…_

He would need to learn not to touch what belongs to Erik.

But there would be time for that later. If Christine was smart, she would come home alone. I needed to speak to her and the boy would simply… complicate… matters. I would take measures against the boy on my own schedule.

I reached the front door and let myself in.

I had to pick the lock the old fashioned way. It is odd, really… I can lock something with a barely a thought and a flick of my wrist, but I have a devil of a time unlocking things. Strange, yes? Perhaps it is for the same reason that I can cause pain easily, yet healing magic seems to be beyond my reach.

I imagine there is a life lesson in there somewhere, if you care to find it.

--

I felt, rather than saw, Christine's arrival. The closer she came, the more my aches receded. By the time her hand touched the front door, my bones were practically humming with anticipatory pleasure--the way one feels when they have been sick for a long time, but know that the medicine they've been given will start working soon.

If only Christine had been more in tune with herself. If she was paying more attention to her own symptoms--to what her body was trying to tell her--she would have known what she was walking into. She looked jumpy and nervous, but not suspicious. She should have recognized my presence, but she was too busy fiddling with her keys and her cellular phone and her television to notice I was standing right behind her.

But she was caught up in her silly _emotions_ at the time, and that gave me an advantage over her.

So, there I stood, mere feet away from her, silently watching as she focused on the news report.

They were talking about me. How interesting.

"…_This individual is believed to be _extremely _dangerous. If you do encounter someone whom you believe to be the fugitive, _do not approach him_ under any circumstances. Immediately call 911 or---"_

No more of that. She'd gotten the idea; there was no use dwelling on things that would only frighten her. Despite whatever that reporter implied, I was not set on wreaking havoc around the city. This matter was between Christine and me. Very few people would need to die, as long as she behaved herself.

I flipped off the television and, as and afterthought, locked all the exits.

"Hello Christine."

She turned around, eyes wild and face flushed with panic. _Beautiful._

"E-Erik… what are you… I was just going to come see you when--"

"Oh were you?" I murmured. Her nearness was enchanting, and a few minutes in the room with her had caused all the lingering pain to melt out of my body. In fact, I was feeling more energized and powerful than ever. I almost forgot why I was angry with her. I _almost _forgot that she betrayed me. Almost. I resisted the urge to bare my teeth. "Perhaps Erik thought to spare you the trouble and come seek you out himself?"

I moved forward slowly, finding myself not offended, but rather mildly amused at the way she scurried across the room so that the sofa was in between us. "What is the matter, angel?" I asked, feeling delight that I could finally use the endearment openly. She knew all about my identity and her significance--there was no longer a reason to hide anything. "One would think you were not happy to see me."

"But you just _left _the hospital. You can't do that… you have to--"

"I missed you," I said, shrugging. One should note that I am not normally so rude as to keep interrupting people, as I had just done to Christine twice, but she would have kept stuttering for ages without getting anywhere and I was inclined to be merciful.

"I was coming back! You said I could go for three days!"

"Our situation changed somewhat, wouldn't you say? There I was, sitting patiently in my cell, when I felt something strange… and I found myself thinking that perhaps you were not missing _me _as much as I was missing _you_. Do you have any idea what I could be referring to?" I was playing with her. Perhaps it was not fair, as flustered as she was, but the lightness of my game kept my temper in check, kept me from doing something I would regret.

"But I _did _miss you! I… I… that's why I came back early, so I could see you!"

Suddenly I didn't feel much like playing, anymore. She was lying to me. Did she think I was _stupid_? Did she think that our bond would allow her to hide her betrayal? She gave her heart to another! Did she not think I would _feel _that?

My voice was colder than I imagined possible. "Where is your ring, Christine?"

"Oh, that? Um… I lost it. Yeah, I was out swimming and I think it must've fallen into the ocean. I was going to tell you. I'm really sorry. It was an accident. I'll replace it if it was really important to you."

Lies. All lies. How could she do this to me? "Oh there is no need for that," I assured her as I reached into my pocket. "I am sure it was an accident. Besides," I opened my hand and held out the magic ring for her to see, "it would seem that I have found it again."

Dawning flashed across her face and she became abruptly pale.

I gestured to the closest armchair. "Please, sit. I believe there are some things we must discuss."


	22. Chapter 22

**Erik  
**

I breathed carefully and consciously willed the pulse roaring through my head to slow. Despite the fact that I had already caught her in her lies, Christine dared attempt to mollify me _again_. Was it cruelty on her part? Panic? Pure stubbornness?

"Look, Erik… let me explain…"

I crossed my arms. _This should be good._ "Very well. Explain."

Her eyes went wide; I do not believe she expected me to actually _let _her get any farther than 'let me explain'.

Mentally, of course, I _had _already shut her out--she had been lying thus far, after all--but I like to be unpredictable. By the way her jaw worked up and down, I gathered that she was unsure how to proceed.

"I… well… you see…"

"Yes, I did see. I saw everything, Christine. Tell me this--who was that boy?"

I already knew, though. I had seen every moment of Christine's life. I had seen her grow up with him as children, I had watched her date him as a teenager. Although, I have to say it did not make me nearly as jealous then as it did now. Christine becoming real… changed my perception of many things. I needed her before. But now I am in love with her. She was mine alone. Still is.

"He's nobody. Just a friend."

"Does your _friend _have a name?"

"Don't hurt him! It's my fault that… Just please don't hurt him, Erik."

I growled--an honest to goodness _growl_--and lunged forward, putting my arms on either side of her head, effectively pinning her to the chair.

I wanted to touch her, to wring her pretty neck or to bury my head in her hair and profess my feelings for her, but I carefully refrained. I could not touch her. I could not touch _anybody_. Not without killing them. Ever since that moment when I gave death's touch to my first victim, I'd lost control over that power. I was wearing gloves, but I still would not take that risk with Christine. I had waited so long for her, I was not about to lose her because of some act of carelessness.

No, I could keep my control. _I have lived without touch for many years. This will be no different._

But I was deluding myself. It would be different. I _wanted _to touch Christine… I wanted her to touch me. Never in my life have I so desperately wanted human contact. I shut my eyes, imagining what it would feel like for her to lay a gentle hand on my neck, and took a shuddering breath.

"Hurt _him_?" I snarled, "You worry about hurting _him_? Where was your concern about hurting _Erik_? Your Erik who huddled in agony while you gallivanted about with another man. Erik… who should not forgive you, but who will forgive you because he loves you and would do anything you asked if only---"

"What did you say?" she whispered. Her eyes were impossibly wide, but her expression was one of curiosity rather than fear.

I spluttered for a moment. "I said that you have done something unforgivable by--"

"You said you loved me. But I thought that---"

I interrupted her words before they went somewhere I would not like. "I must be leaving." She gasped and I had the urge to roll my eyes. "You will be coming with me," I added. Really, did she think I would just _forget_?

"But I---"

I sighed. "Enough of this, angel. Go upstairs and pack. I do not know how long we will be away… but bring clothing and any items you cannot live without. I will provide the rest."

"Erik, if you really loved me, you wouldn't be---"

I snapped. "UP. STAIRS. NOW."

She squeaked and darted up the stairs with me stalking angrily behind her.

--

I looked around her room with a sense of déjà vu. I had been in this bedroom once before, a long time ago… though not physically. But I still remembered it.

I picked up the little stuffed bear that sat on the top of her bed. "I never had toys like this," I remarked absently.

Christine turned from her task and gave me an odd look. "Yes, I believe you've said that once before."

"I remember," I said, swallowing hard. "I could not have been more than sixteen. I… I had been wandering through a little desert village where the natives were less than friendly. I was hungry and frustrated and I fell asleep and woke up… here."

By now she had turned to me fully. "That was real? I mean… that boy… it was you? That is… like not a dream but the real you… although _you _were dreaming but…"

I almost chuckled. Christine is magnificent, though not exactly the picture of eloquence. But still, I understood what she was saying. "What do you think of me, angel? Do you believe your Erik to be a cruel man? I knew of your dreams… but do you believe I was somehow sending them? That Erik was trying to torture you somehow?"

"Well… I…"

"Angel… _Christine_… I cannot apologize for what I have done or will do as far as you are concerned. But you should know that you were never alone. We have always been connected, even before you were born. You are not the only one who has experienced disturbing visions. You have only experienced them since you met me a short time ago. I have lived with them for… many years. And we have even shared dreams, like the one you just mentioned." She was looking at me blankly, and I found myself becoming very, very angry. Was she truly so… self centered? Did she pity herself? Consider herself alone and… wronged? How dare she! Christine did not even know the meaning of suffering.

No… that could not be right. Christine was not selfish. She was young and immature and short-sighted, but she was not selfish. Nobody could treat me as kindly as she did in the hospital if they were truly self-centered. No, the problem had to be with me. I must just not be communicating myself clearly.

I made another attempt. "My dear Christine. I _am _sorry that you were…" I paused for a moment, trying to come up with a phrase she would understand, "…dragged into this. But so was I, in a way. We have been forced together by a power that is not my own. This… what I have done… this life I have led… none of it was my own choice. I did not ask to live this way. I did not choose to be… evil."

Her eyes turned hard. "There is always a choice," she said coldly, before turning back to her packing.

I stood there awkwardly for several moments--still angry, but also feeling a bit like a beaten dog--before turning to leave. "I shall leave you to work in peace. Do not dawdle, Christine, we cannot afford to stay here long."

"I'm not ready just yet. I have to… um… I'll have to jump in the shower real quick before we take off, if that's okay."

I paused, trying to think of what deception she would be attempting with such a request. But, in the end, I supposed it did not matter. The windows were still locked tight, and once we left the house, there would be no finding us.

"You will not be able to escape that way," I warned.

She answered with a soft 'I know' and so I gave her a curt nod before returning downstairs.

--

I occupied myself by exploring the first floor of the Daae's house. I'd heard the water turn on upstairs and was doing my best to ignore what that obviously meant--that she was either attempting a second betrayal, or was currently in a state of undress that I had never before associated with my pure angel. And so I wandered about, running curious fingers over the books on the shelves (mentally taking note of which ones looked over-used) and examining all of the strange electronics that were probably very common to her, but unfamiliar to me. There was much I needed to catch up on.

I noticed a set of video recordings on the coffee table. They had a Post-it note attached with Christine's name on it. I took three or four seconds to admire the look of her name written out (I stopped when I realized I was acting like a teenage girl) before recognizing the handwriting as Nadir's.

Stupid Khan.

Nadir Khan was my first real friend. Or so I thought. He was the first person I ever trusted with my secrets.

I was hired by the shah of Persia (back when it was still called Persia) as an architect for a palace he wanted to build. I knew the job would be interesting, and I had nothing better to do at the time, so I accepted without hesitation.

A few days later, his mother, the queen, received word of my presence and recruited me for a different task. She was a sadistic woman, and had spent much time listening to stories of men, from all lands, who possessed special talents that she could exploit. At the time, I presented myself as nothing more than an architect and amateur magician (in my profession, it is vital to keep your cards close to your chest, so to speak. I never reveal all of my skills to any one person) but she must have sensed the darkness in me, for she soon recruited me to be her personal entertainer. By 'recruited' I mean ordered, and by 'entertainer' I mean much more than a performer of parlor tricks.

And that is how I became the Angel of Death. The epithet was deliberately offensive, as it was obvious I hated it. I am very careful never to betray my emotions, and yet I could not help stiffening whenever she mentioned 'angel' in reference to me. Even though _death _was attached, I could not bear to be compared to the angel that I had yet to meet in person. Of course, she never knew why I had an aversion to that word in reference to myself… she merely took advantage of my discomfort and used it as a way to keep me… in line.

And so I was her little pet. I spent less and less time working on my designs for the palace, and more time amusing the queen. Of course, when visitors came to the palace, I would perform my little acts of illusion or slight of hand but, when the queen was alone with her servants and closer companions, my magic tricks became unspeakable acts of violence--sometimes against her enemies, sometimes innocents who were unlucky enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Now, eventually the shah discovered his mother's use for me and became--quite rightfully--nervous about having such a dangerous man in arm's reach of his royal highness. Thus, he assigned a high ranking officer, Nadir Khan, to guard me. I do not know what good he thought it would do--I could have killed them both without much trouble--but it gave the shah peace of mind.

Nadir and I had a peculiar relationship. He was mostly an annoyance, like a fly that will not go away, but he began to grow on me as time progressed--like a fungus or something. But still, it was nice, comforting, having someone there who asked nothing of me… except perhaps the request that I not kill him, so that he may keep protecting the shah. But that was a reasonable enough request. Most of the time.

I constantly tested him. Nadir was a man with a strict set of morals, which would not bend no matter what manipulation tactics I tried, though I still took amusement in the attempt. He clearly disapproved of my own sense of morality--or lack thereof--but he respected it, most of the time, taking up the stance that he would not try to change me if I would do the same for him. And, despite the fact that I never even attempted to live up to my side of the bargain, he still continued to keep his displeasure to himself.

I began to trust him. It was a tragic thing for me to do but, so help me, I trusted him. For the first time since I was a little child in my mother's arms, I gave my trust to another person. And, despite the horrific consequences that action had for us both, I cannot say I regret it. Because, for a few short months, I _mattered _to someone. And that felt… indescribable.

Once--just once--I let my guard down around him. It was after a particularly difficult… assignment… from the queen, who had suddenly wished to assuage her curiosity of how many organs I could remove from a man before he finally died from pain and blood loss. That night I returned to my flat and immediately heaved up the entire contents of my stomach. After which, I proceeded to get myself very, very drunk.

And that is how Nadir found me, dizzily intoxicated, smelling of death, and sobbing like a baby. He took me to his home, cleaned me up, forced some food into my stomach and coaxed me to tell him what happened.

And I did. Only… I did not stop there. I told him _everything_. Emptied my heart to him.

I told him of my kidnapping, of my years spent with the Erlking. I told him how he stole a piece of my soul and filled the void with a substance made of his own, pure darkness. I explained to him the Erlking's touch of death and how the power was imparted to me and how I struggled every day not to use it--to retain that small shred of my humanity and prove that I was not evil throughout. I even told him the horrific tales of my wandering life after leaving the forest palace--tales of abuse and fear and bloodshed.

Lastly I told him of my angel. I told him of how she would help me find my soul and put it back together and that, only then, would I be able to pass away from this life that I had become so resentful of.

He sat there for hours, listening to my story, occasionally nodding and attempting to soften the shocked looks on his face.

And then he took that information--so brokenly given--and delivered it to the queen.

My skin is riddled with scars from that betrayal. Scars that Christine had demanded to see and then had run from.

To be fair, I have a difficult time holding Nadir's disloyalty against him. I have had many, _many_ years to get over my anger and think on the event clearly. His family meant everything to him and the queen threatened to take them all away. He would have done anything to save them.

As it was, though, Nadir's treachery was rewarded with more treachery. The queen reneged on her promise to leave his family untouched and, instead, ordered them murdered in their own home.

Or so everyone thought.

Nadir never knew this when he was executed, but one member of his family had escaped the queen's wrath. His youngest son, Reza, had hidden in a small cupboard and escaped the intruders' notice. He could not have been more than four or five at the time, but he had a penchant for hiding and spying. Not only had it saved his life, but I believe it also had allowed him to eavesdrop on my confession to his father.

And, thus, a thorn in my side was born that would continue for generations. When Reza was a bit older, he took it upon himself to atone for his father's actions by taking his place as my… nursemaid. And when he had a son, he trained the boy to do the same. It's continued to this very day, much to my chagrin.

Another irritant was the fact that they all seemed determined to resist my voice. I would not go so far as to admit any extraordinary mental prowess in any of them, but the Khan are trained--practically in the womb--to understand my tendencies and manipulations and fight them. Each new Khan that comes along seems to believe that he is my dearest friend who knows me better than anyone else.

And I absolutely will _not _admit that that is the truth. Absolutely not.

In fact, it's become more of a game to me to prove them wrong. No matter how stubborn and skillful the Khan men are, I am more so. This can be easily proven by the incident with that orderly that was getting to close to Christine. What was his name again? Jeff? Josh? It started with a 'J'. Never mind, it is of little consequence. He was souring Christine against me before I was even able to meet her properly.

I had not planned to frighten Christine away that evening. I was just so infuriated that she would even _consider _allowing another man to court her when she so clearly belonged to _me_.

It was good fortune that the orderly had taken over Christine's duties after she ran away. It was the silver lining, so to speak--if she had to leave me, at least the subject of my revenge was conveniently nearby. He was a ridiculously weak-minded individual, it was almost embarrassing to use my voice hypnosis on him. A mere suggestion (step right this way, sir, so that I can shake your hand and introduce myself properly!) was all it took to bring the fool bumbling straight over to my cell and sticking his arm through the little window.

I took a sick sort of amusement in killing that orderly. He'd been comparing us to wild animals for years. You would think that he, of all people, would know to keep his fingers out of the cages. I did not bite him (irony or no, that would have been highly uncivilized); I merely grasped his hand with mine and watched him collapse.

Disposal of the body was notably more challenging a task, and that was where Khan came into play. It took nearly a half an hour of combined persuasion, hypnosis, and threats to convince him to take the orderly's body from the ward and hang it above Moncharmin's desk, but it was worth it to see the half-dazed look on his face as he dragged the corpse, down the hall, by the leg. It was a great victory, in my mind, to have ensnared the untouchable Nadir Khan, and I was looking forward to gloating when he returned and I lifted the trance.

But I did not gloat. Not one bit. Instead, I erased his memory and sent him on his way. Despite all that has transpired between me and that family, it would seem that I have developed a bit of a soft spot for the latest Khan scion. I still cannot pinpoint why. Perhaps it is because he carries the name of his ancestor and it reminds me of the original Nadir. Perhaps it is because he still remained with me, all those years in the hospital, despite the fact that my confinement rather declawed me and made having a… keeper… entirely unnecessary.

Whatever the reason, as I looked into those clouded eyes, I knew that he would be forever disgusted with himself when he awoke and learned what he had done. And so I wiped his short term memory clean, released him from the trance, accused him rather testily for letting his mind wander, and dismissed him from my presence.

And so no one would ever know the truth of that murder. In the end, I believe it worked out in my favor. Let the mystery take its course, and the paranoia that I was not as locked up as everyone assumed. Even the tainting of my food that resulted was worth it. It inspired Christine's sympathy for me all the more.

"What are you looking at?" Christine asked, drawing me out of my thoughts.

"Nothing. Simply… reminiscing."

"You'll have to tell me about it sometime," she said, giving me a strange smile.

I was a bit taken aback by her friendly behavior, but I forced myself not to read into it. "Perhaps not, angel," I answered, picking up the video recordings and waving them slightly for her to see. "It would seem you already know more about me than I expected."

"Perhaps so," she murmured. "Shall we go, then?"

I stared at her intensely until she started to squirm. What sort of mind-game was she attempting to play with me?

"Let's," I answered cautiously as I gestured to the front door.


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N - I have made a few changes to the previous chapter. Small things, wording here and there. Not really enough to merit rereading... I only mention it here for the benefit of those who were irked at me for calling Christine stupid. I recant! And I have also managed to fix the typos. **

**Thanks for reading!  
**

* * *

**Erik**

Moncharmin's vehicle was still in the driveway--one of the reasons I did not want to linger too long--and I think Christine was moderately surprised when she recognized it, though she made no mention of it. Instead she merely settled herself into the passenger seat while I loaded her small suitcase into the trunk.

Actually, she was fairly quiet throughout our short drive. It was unsettling, to be honest. I do not know what I expected--friendly conversation? No. Tears? A little. A banter of pleas from her and threats from me? Most likely. But this silent compliance bothered me. I wanted to hear her voice. I missed it, just like I had missed her smiles and her scent.

I wonder if Christine took as much pleasure in my scent as I did in hers. I am not an animal. I am not scent-oriented. I do not go prowling around smelling anyone and anything I encounter. It is simply _Christine's _that attracts me.

I believe--no I am _certain_--it has something to do with my angel. For years I had this friend, this angel, who visited me. She was the most important person in my life, and yet she was never entirely _there_. Not physically. She could touch me, but my hands would pass straight through her. And even her touch… there was no temperature. It sounds so very strange, does it not? But you might be surprised at how important attributes like scent and temperature are for a being--or anything, for that matter--to be entirely _real_.

Did Christine feel that way as well? I wanted so much to ask her, but I was afraid of her response. Perhaps I am a coward. Still, I could not bear to hear that I meant nothing to her, while she was my entire world. It was one thing to suspect as much in my own mind; to hear her say the words would have destroyed me.

But then… the scent I detected from her was not entirely hers, now was it? She had come out of her washroom covered in a strong perfume, but I could still smell the _boy_'s touch on her. And _that _destroyed me as well, though I did what I could to force my evil thoughts to the back of my mind.

--

I was tentatively thankful that her silent treatment did not last forever. Granted, I was not particularly elated by her various topics of choice, but it was start.

"Where are we?"

"Ah! She _can _speak!" As soon as the words left my mouth, I wanted to smash my head into the window. My temper had flared more often that day than I was accustomed to, and I was feeling rather irritable. But that was no excuse. This was the _one _person who's opinion mattered, and thus far I was not doing much to endear myself to her, if the glare she gave me was indicative of anything.

"We have finished our drive," I added, to answer her question.

She looked around in a near panic as I stepped out of the vehicle and opened her door for her. I did not need to look into her mind to see what she was about. She had been planning to run as soon as I stopped the car and had just realized the folly of that decision. I had parked near an alley way, in a more seedy section of town that I doubt she had even known existed. Any number of unfortunate fates could befall a pretty young lady who dared traverse _these _streets without proper escort.

She was better off with me--unwilling as she was to admit it. Ha! Would you ever believe a time would come when _I _would be the lesser of two evils?

"You're stopping _here_?" she nearly shrieked.

"Nothing will harm you, Christine. I will destroy any creature who comes close enough to touch you. The dead will line these streets before anybody lays a hand upon my angel."

My reassurance did nothing but make her pale and trembling.

I found myself vacillating between irritated and amused at the poor child's terror. She was never in true danger--nor would she ever be, not with me by her side--but she seemed determined to be difficult.

"So this is… is this where you live?"

I laughed and removed her bag from the trunk. "Certainly not!"

"Then why are we here?"

I did not answer her for several moments. Instead I set the keys on the top of the car so that I could use both hands to finish unloading the vehicle of anything useful the doctor might have stowed there. As I ushered Christine down the street, I simply _neglected _to retrieve the keys.

I looked to see if Christine noticed, but her eyes seemed frozen on the shadow of an unkempt young man. _Ah, so she sees him too!_

"He wishes to steal this car," I said softly in her ear, startling her out of her daze. "We must leave now."

"But if you know he's gonna… then why…"

"We must leave now," I clarified, "because that man intends to steal the car and I intend to let him." Still confused, apparently. I continued, even softer than before. "Every police officer in the city is looking for this vehicle. Did you expect me to be there when they find it? Or perhaps I should just park in front of my house and have them find us that way."

"Oh," was all she said in response. I gritted my teeth against the disappointment I heard in her voice. Disappointment. She wanted us to be caught… wanted me to be recaptured. She did not care for me at all.

"Follow me, then," I said, after a time, and ushered her through the side entrance of a dilapidated looking building. From the basement, we would be able to access the network of tunnels that stretched through the city's underground.

"This place used to be a restaurant," I reminisced. She did not respond. I could tell she was still dismayed that we had evaded law enforcement--she still felt she needed rescuing.

"These tunnels are rarely used anymore. Originally they were created to allow workers to service hard to access areas of the city. However, with various improvements in transportation, these corridors became rather obsolete…" I continued my feeble attempts to make conversation, constantly checking on her from the corner of my eye.

Eventually, though, she'd had enough. "Stop, will you?" she snapped, "Just stop! Look… I don't know why you're doing this. I mean… I'm practically kidnapped and you are standing here trying to make idle conversation about heaven knows what when all I want is to just… just stop, okay? Enough."

"Very well," I answered. I was not offended in the least, if you can believe that. Her passion pleased me, even if it was directed toward me in anger. I could not wait to take all that passion and energy and put it to music.

But, in the meantime, I could value the silence.

But only for a time.

You see, the way she patted her pockets, the way she continually looked over her shoulder when she thought I was not watching… she was still waiting for something. Or someone. I tolerated it for so long… and then _I _had had enough.

"Did you enjoy your shower?" I asked, referring to her sudden request back at the house.

She looked at me awkwardly. "That's… not really an appropriate question to ask… Erik."

I hid my smirk. "Forgive me," I murmured, "I meant no disrespect." She gave me a curt nod and looked away, but she was unable to hide the way her cheeks flushed and eye widened fractionally. Embarrassment, perhaps? No, I knew the truth. Guilt.

I allowed a few moments of silence hang between us before continuing. "Your hair is dry."

"Excuse me?"

"Well… I was just remarking on the fact that your hair remains dry, despite the shower you insisted upon before we left. One would think that bathing might leave it at least a little damp."

To her credit, she managed to keep an indignant expression. Mostly. Her eyes shifted and she swallowed hard. She gave a shaky laugh--an attempt to be flippant--and answered, "Oh Erik, don't be silly. You don't wash your hair _every _time. You just don't know anything about being a girl."

"Yes, that must be it," I answered, but I paused and looked at her thoughtfully. "I also notice you are wearing the same clothes."

Christine laughed again, even more nervously. "Oh. Well, I forgot to take a change in with me so I just threw these back on."

I gave her a long look before nodding. "I see."

She audibly exhaled her relief and I nearly chuckled. Christine does not realize that those sort of gestures are what make her lies so ridiculously transparent.

"Angel, surely you know that weapons will be useless against me."

"Sure… I mean… why do you say that?"

"And you must also know that no one will be able to track us once we reach our destination."

"Why would I---"

"So even if you did manage to get a message to the authorities, they would not find us."

"I didn't! I---"

I stopped walking and forced her to do the same. "Christine, I am attempting to be gentle. I am not a monster and I will not keep you forever against your will. But you must abandon these silly notions of escape and rescue."

She looked crushed, and I could tell my hypothesis had struck true. And yet she attempted to continue, "I haven't even---"

_Enough of this_, I thought. I had regained control of our situation (not that I had ever truly lost it) and that gave me a measure of peace. I was able to reign back my voice to the comfortably emotionless tone I preferred. Despite lingering frustration at Christine's stubbornness, I was feeling intensely calm.

"Erik is not as easily deceived as you would assume, my angel, simply because he does not call attention to your every deception. I know that you are hiding something from me. And you _must _put it out of your head. You will be free in due time, but for now you must accept that you are mine."

"Yours?" Christine whispered. Her nose was red; she was dangerously close to tears.

"For now," I repeated with a nod. _Forever_, a voice in my mind pressed. I shrugged it off.

"How long?"

I thought for a moment. "Until I finish my research. Five days should be sufficient, I believe."

"What research?"

"I must retrieve my soul before I can release you." _before we can be together forever, _the voice corrected.

"Are you saying that, after all this time, you never bothered to figure that out?"

Ah. Annoyance. She wore it well. Her threat of tears had passed and she was scowling at me.

"I assumed that my soul would be trapped in an object, not a person, and conducted my research accordingly. I believed that I would simply have to destroy the item harboring it and free the soul fragment inside. However it would seem that matters have changed a great deal. I am very… reluctant… to destroy you, Christine."

I meant that as a joke, albeit a weak one, but Christine did not take it as such. She reacted as though she had just received word of her impending execution--rather than the comforting opposite I intended. I suppressed my urge to sigh. She did not understand me. I had known her for centuries, but she had only known me for months. It was wrong of me to assume she would be aware of the many idiosyncrasies I had acquired over the years.

"Do not be so dismal about this," I prodded, "It is my desire that we should enjoy this time together. I will confine my study to your resting hours, that we might spend the rest of the time becoming more acquainted with one another. Perhaps we shall sing, too. Yes, I should like that very much--to accompany you on a _real _piano as you practice your singing. And… and…" I began to get very excited, "perhaps in the evening I shall play for you. Yes! Would you like that? On the violin? Your father was a violinist, yes?" I noticed the way she tensed when I mentioned her late father, and decided to end my ramblings. "I will teach you not to be afraid of Erik. You know now how I feel about you."

Her eyes narrowed shrewdly as she responded, "If you cared about me… if you really wanted us to get to know each other, you would not hide your face from me. What are you afraid of, hmm? It's not like I'm going to report you to the police or anything."

That… _woman_. Agh! I get angry just remembering. She knows just the spots to touch that put chinks in my carefully guarded control.

My hands hovered over her shoulders, but I managed to keep from touching her. "Listen to me, Christine. Listen. To. Me. You are my queen. I would do anything for you… except this. You are never, ever to bring this up again. Do you understand me? And you must never touch my mask… never even think it."

I waited for her eyes to glaze over, as I have come to expect when I use my voice to issue direct commands, but they never did. She just blinked up at me as if she could not comprehend what I was so upset about. Her very nearness scattered my charms--made it difficult to concentrate, control my abilities. What would she do if she ever discovered that she held so much power over me?

It was maddening. In her presence I almost felt human. And then _she _had to remind me that… of… I…

In a moment of panic, I resorted to threats--always an old favorite.

"You are safe with me, Christine. No one will harm a hair on your head, because you are mine. And I tell you that you are safe _from _me as well. Never have you had a more respectful friend as Erik. But that is only as long as you do not touch the mask. I will not be responsible for my actions if you do."

"Okay," she whispered, suddenly looking very small, her eyes submissively on the floor in front of her.

This was… not going well.

"Now, now, angel," I coaxed, "chin up. We have nearly arrived!" I surprised her by opening a hidden door that connected the city's catacombs with those under the concert hall.

"You might want to stay close. This passage is marked with several… precautions… to ward of intruders. I would hate to see you slip down a trap door and find yourself in a torture chamber!" I chuckled.

She was not amused.

We continued the rest of our short journey in uncomfortable silence.

I was nearly giddy with relief when we finally came upon the red door that gave entrance to my little house. "Ah-ha! Here we are, then! Right this way, angel, we are home." I felt extremely cheerful, despite my companion's sullen behavior--past emotional hurts eclipsed by the idea of finally having her alone in my sanctuary. Sing… I wanted to sing with her.

"Home…" Christine whispered. Her brow was furrowed as if in pain. She had to be tired. Obviously that was the problem… it had been a trying day for us both.

I was slightly disappointed that she would not be gracing me with her voice--oh, how I missed it!--but her health and comfort would have to come first.

"Follow me and I will show you to your room."


	24. Chapter 24

Christine's room was an embarrassment. I do not know what I had been expecting, but the guest room was covered in twenty years worth of dust and cobwebs. I almost wished the bond between us was not in place, that I could have waited a few hours or days to prepare a place before I brought her to me.

_But… if not for the bond, would you have even needed Christine to be here in the first place?_

I shook my head. I could not think those thoughts. I needed her. I would always need her. Any thoughts of 'what if' had been banished from my mind long ago. We were meant to be together. At least this way I had a… compelling reason… besides my own obsession.

As she stepped into the room, Christine looked horrified. "Do you… ah… have a vacuum or something?" she asked delicately.

I blinked for a moment. All my electronics, obsolete as they were, were probably ruined anyway. My computer, for one, probably had so much dust in it that the silly thing would explode once activated.

I thought about it briefly before deciding to attempt something I had never done before.

The Erlking's magic was a dark and powerful thing. It was meant for destruction and decay. And yet, it worked by simply manipulating nature. The Erlking was no omnipotent being. He could not stop the earth from spinning or take away a person's free will. But the world around him--air, plants, water, and others--seemed to obey him in close proximity.

It took me quite some time to come to terms with that, truth be told. Initially I rejected all of the abilities and… impulses… that the Erlking's dark essence had bestowed on me. I was a bitter, angry child with no conscience to speak of… but I was adamant that I never wanted to be like _him_. And at first I took that conviction quite literally and to extreme lengths. I may have had the ability to do magic, but I refused to use it out of my fear that to do so would make me _evil_.

I cannot say precisely when that perspective changed for me. I suspect it happened slowly, without my knowledge. Simple things, most likely, like summoning a book from another part of the house without thinking about it.

When it occurred to me how long I had been doing these things without bringing on death or destruction around me, I began to explore the range of my capabilities. My time with the Erlking rendered me superior to human men--even before receiving his curse, or his daughter's gifts, the seasons under his tutelage taught me more about nature and survival than most mortals will ever know. For good and for bad, the Erlking (though I cringe to merely think it) made me what I am. To deny one part of me in defiance and not another is childishly hypocritical.

So I practiced and developed and strengthened my abilities, using whatever means necessary to give myself an edge over those who might exploit me or cause me harm.

But strangely enough, in all this time, it had never occurred to me to use my abilities for as mundane a task as tidying up. Haha… imagine what my mother would have said! And my father would surely have tried to beat the slothful attitude right out of me.

Sometimes I miss them.

On the other hand, I was mighty curious what Christine would think, witnessing a glimpse of what I am capable of. Would it give credence to the words I had spoken to her? Maybe give her cause to trust me a bit more?

Then again, it was equally likely to scare the daylights out of her and make her never speak to me again.

Ah, well, I am nothing if not a risk-taker.

"Please step back a little, Christine. I'd prefer if you were behind me in case the room explodes." I was attempting to be lighthearted, but I was not truly joking. As I said, I had never attempted to make my magic clean something before and… well… accidents have been known to happen.

"But what about you?"

I was _almost _touched by her concern, but Doubt--who likes to rattle about in my head whenever _she _is around--insisted that Christine was only worried about how she would escape this place alive if I were indisposed.

"I cannot die," I snapped, though immediately I could sense her confusion at my tone. I shrugged mentally and cleared my thoughts, preferring to concentrate on the task at hand.

In my mind I focused on all the unwanted mess in the room--the dust, the cobwebs, the little spiders that had no doubt found homes here--and imagined it all releasing from its surfaces and rising into the air. My eyes were shut, but I opened them at Christine's gasp and found myself half-amazed that it had worked. Next I summoned a breeze that moved the dust into a tighter and tighter whirlwind. When it seemed it would condense no more, I closed my open palm and every speck of dirt closed into a single compact ball, which I deftly caught and tossed into the wastebasket.

It was such a simple task--if unfamiliar--yet I found supreme satisfaction in the way Christine stood speechless.

When it became clear she was not about to react on her own, I spoke. "I believe I must apologize for not having prepared your accommodations before you arrived. Inexcusable manners on my part, considering what a treasured guest you are. My compulsion to have you near me must have overridden my other thoughts… though I imagine you can understand that to some extent."

She nodded dumbly, her jaw still open. I knew she could relate to my preoccupation; she'd felt the pull as well, and it was outstanding how mere hours in each other's presence had overturned ages of damage caused by our separation.

"That was… really cool," she said at last.

"Indeed," I answered, hiding my smirk. "I shall leave you to settle in. Feel free to explore the house, though I'd advise you not to touch anything you cannot identify. When you are ready, I will be awaiting you in the music room."

"What for?"

I understood the cause of her puzzlement, yet I still responded as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. "For our music lesson, of course."

The look on her face was pure indignation… so I left without giving her a chance to reply.

--

My 'research' was less actual research and more reflecting and revelation. After all, it is not as if there are many books written about mending broken souls… at least, not in the literal sense. I had been excited and then crushingly disappointed when I first discovered the array of 'self help' books designed to solve all my problems. Once, I even killed an author out of sheer frustration. I did the same thing to him as I did to the magicians of old who made promises they could not deliver. There was nothing I detested more than the raising of false hope.

And so I sat in the library, drinking stale tea and making lists and scribbling thoughts and diagrams onto a pad of paper, outlining the risks and potential of each idea as I imagined them. I knew it would take some time before I settled on something that I was comfortable attempting. I was unwilling to risk Christine's safety, a conviction that severely limited my options.

I paused, detecting a rustling in another room. Curious, I wandered down the hall, following the sound to my workroom.

I peeked inside and felt some unfamiliar emotions rise within me as I saw what Christine was up to. She was on her knees, digging through my desk drawers and scattering the contents across the floor. Normally I would have been furious--or at least annoyed--at the idea of another person rifling through my personal files. But I could not bring myself to feel that way… especially as I noticed her body trembling and ascertained which of my secrets she had uncovered.

It was my artwork she had spread out over the floor. And not just any artwork--hundreds of paintings and sketches… all depicting a young woman with light blond hair and radiant eyes.

"It's… me…" she whispered, covering her mouth with her fingers. "They're all me."

Suddenly, an anguished cry emerged from her throat and she began to tear the pictures… _my _drawings… some of which were over a hundred years old… into pieces.

"NO!" I shouted desperately. She jumped, startled, and looked up at me. I admit I was baffled. Did she not understand by now the depth of my fixation?

Gently, I tried to explain it to her. "Angel--_Christine_--I beg you not to do this. I know you are angry, but try to understand. For so long… this was all I had. I needed this. Soon I will again. Do not take them away from me."

"You have taken _everything _away from me," she mumbled.

I had no response to that.

Christine paused thoughtfully before continuing to flip through the pages. But at least she was not destroying them anymore. I breathed a sigh of relief.

Eventually she reached the end of the pile and gently lifted the last drawing… this one so old it was not even drawn on art paper, but rather a yellowed scrap of parchment.

I looked over her shoulder, interested in her response. This picture would be different than the others. It was a sketch of a small boy--a perfectly formed child kneeling by a stream, looking at his reflection with a look of surprise

Her brow furrowed as she deciphered what I am sure she assumed to be a rather random picture, considering the otherwise exclusive nature of my collection. "This isn't… what… who is this?"

I thought a moment, not quite certain how to explain. "That is… _was_… me. Many years ago. Actually, this moment is the first time I ever looked at my reflection… and the last, in a sense…" I cut off that last line with a nervous clearing of my throat before continuing, "I felt compelled one day to sit down and draw the scene. You see, I had… I was starting to forget…"

"Forget what?" she whispered.

The conversation had taken such an uncomfortable turn for me, and we both knew it. Yet, I needed her to trust me, and if that meant opening up shameful moments, I would comply.

"Forget that there was a time when I was… whole. You may think of me as a monster, Christine, and indeed I would not disagree with you. But I wish you would know that I was not always this way. I was once a happy child, just as you were. I had hopes and dreams and was not ruled by obsessions and curses. Please… if you could only…" I paused, feeling unable to continue.

Christine turned her gaze to the portrait, once again, and traced a finger over the child's cheek. I shivered, wishing that… well… wishing for many things.

Looking back and forth between my face and the one on the page, she asked softly, "What changed? Why do you feel the need to hide your face from me?"

I found myself struggling to breathe. _Too much. This is too much._

Strangely, I was not angry as one may have expected. I had murdered humans for asking the same question in the past. But now… with Christine… I just felt small.

"My angel," I gasped, unable to meet her gaze, "You must know that I would do anything for you. All I ask is that you cease this… that you… I beg of you… please do not humiliate me further."

I turned to leave, not wishing to hear her protests, but her voice stopped me just as I reached the door.

"There is so much I don't know about you," she said. "All this stuff about… us… and our connection. I don't want to believe you. I don't want it to make sense. I want the dreams to be just dreams. But then I see things like this," she gestured to the stack of drawings, "and what ever that… _something_… was back in my room… and I just don't know what to think. I wish to understand… if I could just…"

"What are you saying, Christine?" I asked hesitantly.

"I think I will take that music lesson, after all."

Joy returned. Suddenly I did not feel so small anymore.

--

Accompanying Christine on the piano was a dream. There was passion in her voice that I had not heard from her before. Was it her turbulent emotions running wild into her song, or was it simply the enhancement of having proper accompaniment? Or perhaps it was only my own perspective, influenced by the surge of triumph I felt--triumph that the girl who swore never to sing again, was singing for _me_.

Whatever the cause, I eventually shut my eyes and allowed myself to freefall with the music.

It turned out to be a mistake that would change _everything._

Suddenly, I brought back into awareness by the feeling of chilled air against my now unprotected face.

She'd removed the mask.

I do regret what happened next. I think. It should never have happened, I'll admit that much.

I doubt I can describe it to you in acceptable detail. My vision clouded and faded to black and white--no, that's not right… black and _red_--and I lunged from the piano bench and bore Christine to the ground. She screamed, but the sound did not disturb me as it should have. Actually, it sounded strangely _beautiful _to me… it reminded me of the people I tortured, how I enjoyed their cries. I have always found pleasure in the screams of people who are getting what they deserve, and the knowledge that only _I _had the power to end those screams. Later I would despise myself for placing her in the same category. But… in my mind… well, at the time… I considered this no different. Memories of hundreds of years of abuse flooded back at once. For that brief moment in time, she was nothing more to me than another betrayer. Only this time it hurt _so much _more.

I hissed at her and twisted my fingers into her hair, forcing her closer and closer, giving her no option but to look at the horrible face she so cruelly exposed.

She screamed again, and I laughed. Tears born of rage flowed down my face and dripped onto hers as I towered over her… and yet I _laughed. _

"Let me go, let me go!" she chanted again and again.

"I shall not!" I cried. "You love me now. You must. You would not have cared enough to see Erik's face unless you loved him. And now you shall be with him forever!"

I did release her hair, but only long enough to take hold of her hands and dig her pretty nails into the skin over my cheekbones. I raked them back and forth repeatedly, the force tearing rivers of blood that burned pleasantly when they mingled with salty tears.

"Remove this mask as well!" I taunted. "Perhaps your adoring husband is handsome underneath. Shall we find out?"

"Husband? NO!"

"Yes, my angel. You must stay with me forever now. I would have been anything you wanted… and since you wanted a monster, a monster you shall have. For your very own. Am I everything you expected, my love?"

At some point during my rant, her body had gone limp. She had not fainted… rather, she just stopped fighting.

"Really?" she whispered. I had no idea what she was referring to. And, for some reason, it calmed me.

For the first time in many minutes, I looked down on her with clear eyes--only to find my momentary calm replaced with horror. This was _Christine. My _Christine. Her face was wet, her hair disheveled. Along her hands and face there were light pink streaks where drops of my blood had mixed with her tears.

With a cry, I scrambled off of her, clumsily backing into a corner in a way I had not done since I was a boy.

"I am… I… _please_…" I begged, unsure of what I was asking of her.

She bolted for the door. I shut my eyes until I heard it slam behind her.

We did not see each other for quite some time after that. For hours, I huddled in my corner, trying to wrap my frantic brain around what had just occurred.

I had lost control.

I had hurt her.

I had betrayed her trust… again.

But, above all, a persistent thought echoed in my head, becoming louder as I began to comprehend the weight of my realization.

_I touched her… and she did not die._


	25. Chapter 25

**Erik**

Eventually my stomach growled and it occurred to me just how long it had been since I had taken a respectable meal. More importantly, that meant that Christine had not eaten either, which meant I had been remiss in my duties of caring for my dearest love and other half of my soul. Unacceptable.

Despite the hunger, though, I felt surprisingly wonderful. Better than I had in… well… a long, long time. As violent as my actions toward Christine had been, touching her had left me with a sense of tranquility… as if my soul was rejoicing at the contact with its mate.

It also left me with an odd thought that I determined to contemplate later, when I was thinking more clearly. Our bond seemed satisfied by her proximity. The pain was gone, as was the unrest. What would happen if I permitted Christine to _keep_ the extra fragment and, in turn, I would simply keep _her? _Keeping her by my side would keep us physically well, if nothing else. I may never regain my soul in the traditional sense, but gaining her affection was beginning to sound more and more like an acceptable substitute.

Not that the choice was entirely mine. There _was _someone else's future to consider here.

Would she even allow it? My touch did not immediately kill her--that is always encouraging--though women tend to require more than that when contemplating a lifelong commitment.

Speaking of which, to my knowledge, Christine was mortal. So what would happen when she eventually grew old and di---

Never mind. Unpleasant thoughts best entertained by one with a more stable mind.

In the meantime, I believed that our connection had been established for the time being--enough that I felt confident leaving Christine alone for an hour while I found us something to eat. My angel would never accept me if she believed I could not provide for her.

There was a small restaurant nearby--closed for the evening--where I had an easy relationship with the owner. I had helped him once when the business was struggling and mere months away from closing, and in return, he never seemed to mind when I raided his kitchens at night. Luckily, the establishment was still operating after all these years.

Eager to return, I made quick work of preparing a tray for us both, alternating between Christine's favorites and more exotic choices that I knew she had never had the opportunity to experience before. I had to prove my worth to her. Not only could I meet her needs--I would provide her with the _best_, the most interesting, the most worthy. I would happily afford her with all manner of exposures that she'd never dreamed of before, that she could not likely experience with anyone else. Whatever adventures it took for her to have the ideal life.

She would be my queen--and I, an adoring dog by her feet.

But I feared that would never be enough… not after all that had happened between us. Not after knowing what I was.

If only she had not removed the mask. Erik could have been redeemed.

--

I had debated how best to approach Christine after our last encounter. She was understandably upset--probably horrified also at the besotted corpse she had been saddled with for eternity. However, I think _I _had a right to be a bit upset, myself. Despite the cogs rapidly spinning in my head to sort out the many ramifications of her actions… my heart still ached at the fact that she had betrayed me that way in the first place.

In the end, I decided on the direct approach, and knocked twice. There was no answer, as I expected… but it annoyed me, nonetheless. I now can admit the selfish turn my mind was making. Yes, I had upset her… but she had done _worse_! It was her fault that she could never love Erik.

She had no right to be sulking. I was the one who had been wronged, here! Because of _her._ Because of her treachery… _she _should be the one groveling, begging my forgiveness. Why was I so powerless?

_Because you _need _her._

Honestly the concept upset me. I hated _needing _anything. There was a time when I would forego food and sleep for days at a time simply because I resented my dependence on them. However, though I could not die, I quickly found it nearly impossible to function without those things--so I dismissed my foolishness and resigned myself to the fact that some things were simply necessity.

Christine was such a necessity; I could not function without her.

Yet, at the same time, I loathed to be this powerless.

So I did what I have always done when I felt insecure--I drew myself up and pressed on as assuredly as possible. I would enter her room, politely but confidently, provide her with the supper I had procured, and lock her door until _I _was ready to speak with her again.

I knew how her mind operated. She hated to be alone--hated to know someone was angry with her. My coldness would keep her unsettled. _She _would be the one in submission. _She _would be the one begging _my _forgiveness. I would not let her control this situation. I could not… not if it was to end satisfactorily.

With that thought in my head, I assertively pushed open the door.

And what greeted me drained every ounce of assumed confidence from my body.

She was not there--not in the main bedroom--but I heard her voice coming from the adjoining washroom.

She was crying. But not the hysterical crying of earlier, nor the petulant, frustrated tears of a female who has not gotten her way. No, there was abject misery in her voice, as if she was truly grieving something.

And her words?

"_Poor Erik… my Erik…"_

I quickly set the tray down on the edge of her bed and fled the room.

_--_

I sat at my piano for a long while, not playing any one piece in particular, just letting my fingers wander. It had been so long since I'd had a real instrument to use. Flexing my fingers in mid-air or on the top of my thigh had kept my mind occupied, but the lack of actual sound to accompany it made the experience somewhat unsatisfactory. So much so that even the simple scales and etudes I'd memorized when I first picked up the instrument sounded so very pleasing to my ears. It soothed me, put order to my frazzled nerves as I pondered the utter quandary I was in.

Eventually I picked up the faint sound of footsteps outside my door and quieted so that I might hear them better.

Louder and softer, louder and softer… she must be pacing. Pacing outside my door. How very odd.

She was obviously trying to decide something. Enter and speak to me or some alternative I could not begin to imagine? _Should I allow whatever inner turmoil to continue, or should I simply open the door and address her myself? _

Just when I thought I could tolerate no more… when my curiosity and annoyance got the better of me and I stood so that I may throw open the door, I heard a timid knock followed by the creaky hinges of my door opening.

"Erik?" she said, quietly.

I believe nearly every muscle in my body tensed at once. I remained standing but did not turn to face her. I did not dare. After what had happened between us so recently--and her surprising reaction of loss--I could not bring myself to look her in the eyes. I was a coward, I knew, but I could not help myself. She was too important. So much rode on her not hating me.

Clearing her throat in a way that made me wince, she continued. "I'm sorry."

Then I did turn, if only slightly. _Sorry? Whatever for?_

"I… I know I shouldn't have done that. It was… really mean. But I just wanted you to know that… that I… you see…" she sighed, "You don't have to hide, you know? I understand now that you're… different." I snorted, but she pressed on. "And I guess I was a bit startled. But I'm not afraid or disgusted or anything. If you ever… it's your choice, of course… but if you ever want to stop wearing your mask, it's okay. Don't keep it on for my sake, is I guess what I'm saying. Your face doesn't bother me… not really."

I admit that I was somewhat baffled as to what to say to that. It was certainly not the confession I had anticipated.

"Why?" I asked, after a few moments. "Why are you good to me? I know that I am repulsive. No--do not interrupt--and I know that I have frightened you. What has made you return to this room and say such kind words?"

There was a long pause and I felt a ripple of paranoia. Perhaps she had seen the reason behind my question and was preparing to flee. Or perhaps this was a ploy to manipulate me and she was simply looking for the words that I wanted to hear.

_Jolly luck with that, _I thought, for even _I _did not know what words I wanted to hear.

At some point during the silence, she must have drew nearer, for I soon felt the unfamiliar warmth of a hand between my shoulder blades. Barely there… so close to touching that she brushed against my shirt, yet not actually making solid contact.

"Does it matter?" she asked.

I gasped--unable to control myself--and turned around, grasping her hands between my own. The spark was there… the jolt of unbridled joy and sweet _coming-home _sensation, as well as a strange heat in my belly that I was heretofore unfamiliar with but was too nervous to analyze.

To my immense satisfaction--Christine did not pull away. If anything, she relaxed a bit. She closed her eyes and sighed, looking peaceful. _She feels it too! _my heart exclaimed. I rejoiced, and allowed _hope _to fill my heart. If she felt our connection, perhaps she could be made to _understand_.

Or perhaps not.

"I would still like to go home," she said.

Ordinarily, I would have snapped in my response. I would have given reign to my insecurities and said something cruel. Perhaps I might have locked her up in my fear.

But I found that I could not. The feeling of her hands against mine prevented me from acting out in anger against her. If anything, I felt a strong sensation of… sadness. The strange part, though, was that I could not tell if the emotion was hers or my own.

I fell to my knees, refusing to release her from my grasp as long as she rested there so complacently.

"Christine," I said, begging her to understand, "Do not ask this of me. Anything else, I shall give you--but not this. My very soul literally lies within you. Do you not see? I must have it back first before I can release you."

If I were a better man, I would have warned her that, if I survived this, I never _actually _intended to let her go. Telling her would have been the polite thing to do, after all. But I have never claimed to be a good person.

"But you don't know how to make that happen," she argued, making me wonder how she knew that, as she could not have seen my notes. "I'm not willing to die, yet. And I can't stay here forever."

I bowed my head, allowing it to rest against her hip--for even though she gasped, she did not move.

"There is no other choice, Christine."

Her voice became… somewhat harder… and she tightened her hands uncomfortably against mine. "I don't think you get it, _Erik_. I'd hoped you would see reason. What I'm saying is that I'm _not going _to stay here forever. Someone will come for me. Someone _is _coming for---" She stopped abruptly, regretting her words, and I looked up at her with narrowed eyes.

"What have you done, Christine?" I asked, standing so that I towered over her.

I felt fear. Again--to whom did it belong?

"N-nothing!" she insisted. "I just mean that… that it won't be long until someone notices I'm gone and comes looking for me. That's all…"

Ah. So she must have gotten a letter to the boy after all. Why she believed she could lie to me, with our minds currently linked thus, I shall never know.

I smiled (though it must not have been a nice smile, since she finally did pull her hands way) and answered lightly, "Oh! Is that all? You please me, Christine. For a moment Erik was afraid you had betrayed him. Silly Erik! Will you forgive my foolishness?"

Christine took exactly three steps back before nodding hesitantly.

I clapped my hands. "Splendid. For that, you have my gratitude. Now, I do believe it is getting late. Perhaps you should rest now, and we will continue in the morning."

She frowned. "But what about---"

I interrupted, soothing her with my voice, projecting peace and calm in my tone. "Sleep now, Christine."

I watched with a smile as she yawned. My angel certainly was a precious one.

"You know," she said, "It's been a long day. I think I should turn in, if that's okay with you."

"I think that is a wise decision. Goodnight, angel."

"G'night…" she mumbled, stumbling back toward her room.

--

Sometime after Christine had gone to bed, I stood in my own bedroom, looking about awkwardly.

Before my imprisonment, my sleeping arrangements were… somewhat unconventional.

I slept in a coffin.

I know how disturbing that sounds, but it was the only place I had felt any sense of safety as I rested. After the life I had led, the people I had met… I found it difficult to sleep in the open. If I was to become so vulnerable to attack, I preferred to close myself away in a place that was protected and well hidden. As a younger man, I tended to curl up in caves, attics, or dilapidated rooftops. And the paranoia followed me even to the fortress of a cellar that I had constructed.

But, as I looked at the dusty box once again, I found myself disgusted with the prospect.

I no longer wanted to hide. Not with Christine nearby. Darkness was no longer my safety--_she_ was. And I wanted to be safety to her as well. Sleeping so far from her filled me again with the ancient coldness that her touch had temporarily vanished before.

I opened the coffin long enough to retrieve my pillow and headed to the hallway beside Christine's room. I would not enter her sanctuary--I did not seek her comfort, merely her nearness. Instead I settled down right there in the hall and pressed my back against her door.

And slept the most peaceful night of my life.


	26. Chapter 26

**Erik**

She shared her dreams with me. I knew they were hers and not my own. For one thing, it was _my _life we were reviewing. That was odd in and of itself-I typically dreamt of _her, _for the most part. Just as she had the misfortune of viewing my experiences in the weeks since she'd known me, I had been watching _her _life for… many years.

I wondered if she resented me for it. Surely she could not have seen my unconscious visits (or worse, memories!) as anything more than nightmares. It did give her insight into my life… into _me_… but I could not be certain that that was going to-to use one of your modern idioms-win me any points with her.

And there was also the issue of the amount of insight _my _dreams had given me into _her _life. After so many years dreaming of her, speaking to her, and seeing things through her eyes… I daresay I knew more about her life than she did.

What an invasion of privacy!

At any rate, I knew it must be her mind controlling my dreaming because, not only was I seeing old memories, they were interspersed with bits of her own creative quirkiness. Whenever the dream-memory began to take a dark turn, something oddly whimsical would happen. One moment, I would be seeing myself face-to-face with an angry mob… and the next, they would be trampled by giant penguins in cowboy hats. That sort of thing. Odd, is it not? She kept the Erlking from me, too. His image never showed itself, and for that I am eternally grateful to her. After all these years, I still did not know if I could stomach the sight of him.

Soul stealing makes you jaded like that.

I wonder how much our bond had infiltrated her subconscious. Was this how she typically dreamed, or was she protecting me from seeing my own nightmares?

Whatever the cause, it was a blessedly peaceful night that left me feeling safe and warm and energized once morning broke.

I slept longer than usual, too, which I discovered during the rather embarrassing moment in which I had only just risen from my place in front of her room when I heard the click of her door opening. Standing quickly, I kicked my pillow down the hall, out of sight, just in time for Christine to emerge from the bedroom.

As it was, I was still standing in front of the door that she was trying to exit and she just about ran into me before she looked up.

She made a little squeak of surprise. "Erik! What… what are you doing here?"

I cleared my throat and briefly wondered if I was capable of blushing. She certainly was. Christine was beet red. "I was just coming to see if you would join me for breakfast this morning."

She looked me up and down critically-yes, now I was sure I was blushing-before saying, "You're still wearing your clothes from yesterday. Did you not go to bed last night at all?"

I shrugged. "I had much on my mind."

There. Not a lie. Not an answer either… but she seemed to accept it well enough.

"Oh," she said, "Well, how 'bout you go lie down and I'll make breakfast and call you when it's ready, deal?"

"No, no, I would nev-" She interrupted me by grabbing my hand. That spark passed between us again, causing us both to freeze and stare at each other with wide eyes.

We stayed that way for a short moment before she cleared her throat nervously. "No… it's cool. You go relax. I'll take care of it." She released me, but not before taking a long look at our joined hands.

"As you wish, Christine."

_How peculiar,_ I thought to myself. Had she forgotten where she was-why she was here? For all intents and purposes, she was a prisoner, and yet here she was, puttering around my kitchen like a…

Like a wife.

I entertained that train of thought for a bit. But then chill of our separation began to settle upon me (the bond was becoming more demanding, it would seem)… so I tottered of after her to see if I could lend a hand.

She was so pretty, completely at home, already knowing her way around the cupboards and drawer-thanks to my memories she'd seen. I smelled eggs cooking and she had flour on her apron. Heaven knows where she found an apron… I was not aware I even had one.

Yes, she had obviously forgotten her reason for being here, that was perfectly clear now. She had forgotten that I kept her here against her will… forgotten the very real possibility that she had come to help me die.

Or maybe…

Maybe I was the one forgetting.

_The boy, _I thought with a scowl. _Her self-assurance that she would be… _rescued_. Yes, she seemed mighty confident earlier. _

Why was I not bothered as much as I should be? Logically I knew I should still be fuming-trying to find a way to destroy the brat before he did any damage to my fragile relationship with Christine. But, as my little wife floated about, so contented, I found that I no longer had the ability to be angry. About anything.

And that is how I knew: she was projecting her emotions onto me again. Just like she had last night, only she was not fearful.

I was not sure whether I was pleased or disgusted that her calm demeanor melted me thus-made me ignore my paranoia. I did not want to ignore that. I like my paranoia. It helps me keep everything under control.

I shook my head and made my way over to the stove to heat some water for tea.

But then she bumped into me and screamed. I know it was probably a sound of surprise and not fear, but I have been screamed at so much in my lifetime, and I am somewhat prickly about it. Immediately I felt my defenses rise.

"Erik! You startled me!"

"My apologies," I murmured, hoping to see reassurance in her eyes. I found none.

In retrospect, she probably just did not know I needed it. Nevertheless, I bristled.

"What are you doing in here, anyway?" she asked, hands on her hips. "I told you to go lie down."

I sneered at her. "And I disobeyed. You know what that is like, do you not?"

I watched her face fall as her eyes flicked from my mask and down to the floor. "That was low, Erik. You know I already apologized for that."

Perhaps it was a result of our bond, or maybe my dog-like love for her… or maybe something else entirely, but she managed to make me feel two inches tall with that look. I caved.

"Angel I am-"

"No, I know. It's okay. We just…" she took my hand briefly before dropping it again, "for people who know everything about each other, we have a lot to get used to."

"'_Get used to_'… does that mean you have accepted me?"

She scrubbed her hand over her face. "I don't know!" she said, frustrated. "I'm confused, okay? A week ago you were just this crazy guy I felt sorry for…"

She paused, cringing, no doubt expecting some response from me in regards to her claims of _pity._ I shrugged my shoulders. Pity was fine. Not exactly the declaration of undying affection I was hoping for, but I am a realist. If _pity _was all that an angel could summon for worm like me, I would take what I could get. Does that make me weak? Pathetic? Perhaps. But _she _made me this way.

Realizing I was not about to snap at her, she took a shaky breath and continued. "This… crazy guy that I had this connection to and who would make his way into my dreams at night. And then… then you told me all this stuff about you. About how you were really this really old, semi-mortal guy and you've been obsessed with me for like… forever. And I thought 'Wow, he really is nuts'. I didn't realize how much I'd underestimated you. I mean, I knew you were supposedly dangerous, but I didn't want to believe it, you know? You were so nice. So friendly and easy to talk to. But then… oh, my word! You just… Erik, you escaped from one of the most secure facilities in the country like it was nothing!"

Her voice was becoming shriller and shriller as she went on. I could sense her panic, and tried to send her _calm_, as she had done for me earlier. Just in case, though, I surreptitiously waved my hand over the stove, turning off the flame. No point setting the house on fire while she raved.

Subtle as I was, she still noticed.

"And there's _that_!" she cried. "You have some sort of… magic, or something. You can do things that normal people can't do. What am I supposed to say to that? How do I fit into this? I mean… I know what you've told me and I know how I feel-"

"How _do _you feel?" I interrupted.

She looked at me like I had two heads. "How do you _think_? I'm freaking terrified! I feel like I've been thrown into some sort of story book… or, like, somebody else's nightmare. My life isn't mine anymore. I'm scared and I'm angry and I want my old life back. The whole thing… it's insanity. And it's not fair! I hate this and I hate yo-" She stopped herself, shaking her head.

"I hate-" she attempted again, stopping again before the inevitable and looking close to tears.

"Say it, Christine. Say it. You hate me. You know it is true. Tell Erik you hate him and I swear I shall leave you alone. You know you want to. You have to mean it. Say you hate your Erik and you want him to die and he will go. No… I will not die, not without you. But if it will please you I will hide myself away for all eternity-because that is what it will mean-and never bother you again!"

"I…"

"Say it."

"I can't."


	27. Chapter 27

**Erik**

Breakfast was an awkward affair. We were both occupied with the offer I had just made to her. Neither one of us had forgotten our situation, our Bond - which had nearly become a living entity all to itself, with needs and desires. We could not separate, not without great discomfort for us both.

Unless…

Unless I did what I did when she took the trip to grieve her father. Give her my ring, infuse it with magic, and take her pain upon myself.

Forever.

I will always wonder whether she truly understood the magnitude of my promise. At least, at the time. I was sacrificing myself to constant suffering until the day she died.

_Until the day she died…_

Could she even die? With that piece of my soul trapped inside her? I assumed so, as it was not _her _soul binding her to earth. What would happen when she finally perished? Would my soul return to me? Or would it die with her?

Perhaps my offer would mean _eternal _suffering. The pain of constant separation, long after she had left this world. Just to spare her a few decades of discomfort… simply so she did not have to look upon my hideousness.

But I meant it. Every word.

However that did not mean I did not sigh in relief when she rejected it - when she admitted she did not hate me. Her refusal was a gift, plain and simple. Though, maybe not so simple, after all.

So there I was, staring at her with all the earnestness my eyes could convey. And there she was, avoiding my gaze entirely, picking at her food and altogether trying to ignore me entirely. The polite thing to do would have been to leave her to her thoughts… but I could not let her think that I was ungrateful. I _had _to stay there… somehow convince her how much I loved her. She did not wish me to speak, and so I would be silent and simply enjoy her presence. Hope she could tell how much I adored her.

I do not know if she noticed. Her face had become quite pale and I noticed a tremble in her hands.

_She is so wonderful. Yes… I will keep her. She loves me, and I will keep her. She will _want _me to keep her. I can be happy without a soul, I think. She can keep it and I will keep _her_. _

Our Bond hummed pleasantly-like a tension in the air-and I smiled.

She shuddered.

-0-0-0-

I kept Christine with me for the rest of the day. Several times she tried to slip away, claiming one excuse or another, but I could not bear to let her go. She _had _to understand how special she was to me. I had to _make her understand_. And the only way for her to do that would be for us to spend more time together.

I wanted her to know me… the way I was outside of our connected memories. She'd seen too much… seen me at my worst. Seen some of the secret moments that you would never imagine sharing with another. I wanted her to remember how much she enjoyed my company back at… that hospital.

_She liked me then. I want her to like me now, too._

"Erik! I don't want to sing anymore, okay? Let's just… just do something else."

"Such as?"

"We could… talk. I guess."

"Very well. What do you wish to talk about?"

"How's your research coming? Have you figured out how to…" she gestured between herself and me, "set this whole business straight?"

My heart sank. Of course she was still fixated on that. On being rid of Erik and returning to her life.

"Not really, no. It is not as if there is a great deal written on the subject. Mostly theory - spiritual gurus, metaphors. There are some ancient text, notes I have taken from various magicians and 'experts' over the… the years."

"So…" she said slowly, looking at me like I was an idiot. "If you haven't figured it out how this all works in X amount of centuries… what made you think you could do it in five days?"

I felt my temperature rise. I _hated _the power she had over me. How she made me feel incompetent… worthless that all she would feel for me is fear and disgust and… inadequacy.

"Maybe I just wanted to keep you here with me?" I snapped, feeling control slipping. "Did that ever occurred to you_, my dear_? That I just wanted to trap you and make you mine? Give you a time limit so that you would not run until I had you completely?" I snatched her wrists tightly in my hands. There was the familiar jolt of power that came from touching her… though it was now fused with something else. Terror, regret, panic. I shivered and licked my lips. I know I am sick… but even her fear is thrilling to me.

"E-Erik…" she whispered, trying to back away despite my grip, "your eyes get kinda red when you get mad…"

I blinked a few times and she relaxed. "Not for you, angel," I murmured, gentling my touch. "Never for you."

I refused to release her, though. Our Bond felt too nice - and the way she did not pull back as I stroked her pulse points suggested that she felt it to. We projected _calm _to one another - cooling my anger and easing her fear.

"It _had _occurred to me." She returned to our previous conversation. "But I didn't want to believe it. I thought… I guess I thought you were different."

"How so?"

"My mind keeps going back to the guy who was so nice to me in the hospital. The one that everyone claimed was dangerous… but I guess I didn't want to believe that either. Stupid me…"

"Not stupid, Christine. Perfect. But… you were correct - in a sense - in your initial observation. That is a part of me. A part that will adore you, that is determined to be tender with you and wishes to speak to you without fear… with the ease of a close friend.

"But you should know, child, that that is merely one part of me. The part reserved for you alone. Never think me a _safe_ man. Erik is not… has not been for a long time. When the Erlking took my soul he replaced the chasm with his own… not _soul, _per se, for he has none… but his own _darkness_. His essence. You must accept that that may never change. Erik kills without remorse… steals as simple as breathing.

"I will warn you this once, Christine. Your _friends _are not exempt from this. I sense you have attempted to deceive Erik… that you have some foolish hope… _rescue_," The word put a bad taste in my mouth. I had not intended for this conversation to take such a dark turn, but she _needed _to know this. "I swear to you this, angel - if they come between you and I… if _he _touches you in any way… Erik will not restrain his wrath."

She wrapped both arms around herself and averted her eyes. "I-I al-already told you that no one was coming."

I did not respond. She knew. We both did.

"How did he do it?" she asked, after a time, "the Erlking, I mean. How did he mess up your… soul… in the first place?"

"It is difficult for me to explain. I remember it so clearly, yet there is no adequate model that you might compare it to. He went deep into my mind, reaching deeper and deeper until he found the root of it all and… pealed it back until it snapped. But then there was a vacuum left where the missing piece of my soul should be… and the universe detests vacuums, so he had to fill the void with something.

"So then he… well… if anything it was like a kiss. Not physically touching, and yet touching still. Not romantic in any sense, and yet almost morbidly affectionate. He brought his mouth so close to mine and just… breathed. But it was not air he breathed; it was like an icy, dark mist, and it reached down through my lungs and into my blood and deeper still."

There was no real response to that sort of confession, so I cannot fault Christine for staying silent. I did fidget a bit under her gaze, though… she was appraising me as if considering something. Something in the look made me feel supremely unworthy… yet again. It was awkward and humiliating and…

"Well then!" I clapped, with an eagerness that the Bond would not let her believe. Perhaps I could simply imagine the look she gave me was one of tenderness… but that would only work if I did not dwell on it too long. "Let us return to work then, shall we? Will you sing for Erik?"

"I'm… kinda tired, Erik. I think I'd rather go to my room…"

"NO!" I declared, more forcefully than necessary. "No. You must not leave Erik."

"I'm not _leaving_ leaving. I just wanted to rest."

"Rest here!" I insisted. I knew I was begging. Throwing a tantrum like a child. I disgusted myself, and yet I could not let her go. "Please, angel. Do this for your poor Erik. Stay just a little longer." _Let Erik believe you love him just a little longer. _"These might be Erik's last days on earth, you know. Would you deny him this small comfort?"

I mentally cringed at that last bit - realizing how many men have used that line over the years to elicit… whatever it was they were after - but I still refuse to apologize. I craved Christine's love. Even her pretend-love, if that is all I could get. I am pathetic, yet I gather up any crumbs she will throw at me and sigh gratefully, like a starving dog.

Yes, I would move mountains just for her pretend-love.

Christine's eyes shifted around and I knew she was nervous. Would she sleep in a room I was occupying? I was genuinely curious.

She did not _have _to sleep. She never said 'sleep', did she? No, I believe she said 'rest'.

'Rest' could mean a multitude of different things. Of course you rest when you are tired, so sleep is often an assumed consequence… so it does carry that connotation. Some mean merely relaxation, so 'rest' could mean reading a book or taking a bath - although if Christine does not want me around while she was sleeping it stands to reason that she would certainly not want me there while she was bathing, so I doubt that is what she meant. Or sometimes rest is just a measure of peace or freedom from trouble… but I was doing my best to give her that already and she had not cared, so she clearly was not looking for that either. Of course, there is the more permanent connotation of 'rest' in regards to…

"I do not want you to die!" I cried.

She started and her eyes went impossibly wide before narrowing. "Um… t-thanks?"

"No! I mean… that is to say… you must stay with Erik here. But not to die. Christine must not do that! Why would you want to die when Erik loves you most of all?"

"Erik!" she snapped, raising her hands as if I had a weapon pointed at her. Did she think I was going to hurt her? My lasso was tucked away…

"Erik!" she repeated, "Chill out. Just… calm down. I'm going to lie down, okay… look… right here on the couch, alright? Not going anywhere. Nobody's dying. Just… settle down, okay? Easy…"

Keeping eye contact, she slowly lowered herself onto the sofa (awkward with her hands still raised). "See? Just lying down. I'm going to rest for awhile right here." She started to relax into the cushions and dropped her arms. "Now… you go do your homework and I'll be right over here. Maybe I'll even take a nap…" she added, attempting to please me.

Not that it mattered. I knew she would not sleep anyway… she had just made it perfectly clear how much she did not trust me. But I would play along, for her sake.

"Yes, angel. You seem very tired indeed. You should take a little nap while Erik works some more and then when you awaken we will sing again."

She grunted noncommittally and shut her eyes. Pretending to sleep while I pretended to write.

-0-0-0-

We shared nearly an hour of awkward silence. And I mean _painfully _awkward. The scratching of my pen and her occasional sighs were so deafening that they grated on my nerves. Yet I knew that I had brought this on myself by asking her to stay.

I missed being comfortable with her. Does that make any sense? When I shut my eyes, I can imagine her flying into my arms in some wildly passionate romance… but, when I am too tired for all that, I still like to remember those times in the hospital when we would sit back-to-back and talk about nothing. If it is impossible to have everything in regards to Christine, I would settle for that.

If only I could have it back. If only she could be the way she was before she knew of all the horrible things I had done.

Or if she could only _understand_ why I had to do them.

_And there is the issue, right there_, I realized. Everything kept coming back to that one point: she did not understand me. Not completely. She only knew enough to be afraid. Knew enough to see what a monster I am. But not enough to know that… besides a monster, I am a man, too. Or, at least I think I am. Used to be, anyway.

_But if she could know…_

I could tell her - no, show her. The events stripping me from the last bit of goodness I had left in me were not ones I wish to rehash… yet, I could risk a bit of vulnerability for Christine. If it would make her happy. Maybe even love me… a little? At least in my imagination.

"Christine," I asked hesitantly. "You know very many… ugly things… from the dreams you have had of me, yes?" I did not wait for a response as I continued, "Yes, of course you have. But I sense you do not know everything, do you angel? You could not possibly… there has simply not been enough _time_."

Her brow furrowed and I could tell she was trying to decide how to phrase her thoughts. "Yes," she answered carefully, "I saw a lot - good things _and _bad things! - but it couldn't have been _everything_. I always felt like there was stuff being held back, you know? Things that my guide - that boy - you?… didn't want me to know. Like, I'd start to watch something and then he'd drag me away, or fuzz something out so I couldn't see details. If that makes any sense…"

I nodded. "I cannot explain why that is, exactly Christine, though I have my suspicions. I can only guess that it has to do with our Bond… with… past damages that I could not bear for you to see. It was nothing I have done consciously, if it is indeed my doing… but there is much of my early past that I have futilely tried to wipe clean from my own mind. Perhaps that has something to do with it…"

"Who is that little boy, by the way? I mean… it's you, isn't it? But… he doesn't really look like you. Except for sometimes. When he's little he doesn't."

Taking a deep breath, I tried to press onward through a difficult subject for me. "Yes, I was correct. There is much… well, little, but much for _me_… that you are ignorant of. But, if only you could understand. If you could _understand_. Maybe you would see why Erik is… what he is trying to do… why he needs you so."

"What do you want me to do?" she whispered.

"If you would only permit Erik… I… he… _I_ would like to show you. Show you the missing pieces, pieces; perhaps then you can help me, yes? Help find a solution to our misfortune." _Perhaps if you know how much Erik loves you… _why _you are so important to him. Maybe we can make-believe he is important to you as well? _"Just allow me to show you. It will not take long. I just wish to give you some memories. Maybe you will see something I have missed… we can work together in this if you knew all that I knew."

She seemed breathless. "Yeah. Okay. If you think it'll help. Um… what should I do?"

"Just close your eyes, angel. Close your eyes and relax." I reached out my hands to cradle her face. She gasped - likely at the temperature - and pulled back. I murmured my apologies; my cold skin was a side effect of the Erlking's darkness inside me… though she had not seemed to notice before now.

I carefully returned my hands to their position and this time she allowed it. I probably did not _have _to touch her like this… there did not seem to be any valid reason to… but I found that the contact centered me, helped me to relax and concentrate on what I wanted to give her. I had never done this before… but we had traded dreams, had we not? It did not seem so far-fetched that I could not do something consciously that I had been doing unconsciously for weeks.

When I saw her eyelids fluttering shut, I closed my own and breathed deeply - concentrating on my memories and the feel of her skin and asking the Bond to carry to her what it was I wished for her to know.

And it all flooded forth.

There I was… lost in the woods, approached by a strange man with gold eyes, promised safety and happiness and… and an angel of my own.

Lessons with the Erlking, learning to speak to the forest and the animals and bend them to my will.

I was older, angrier, trying to understand what the Erlking wanted of me and why I was so special. Why I was different from the other children who never grew up or remembered their names.

"_The only way you can know my mind is if you are mine completely. You have been holding back. I can make you great, but you have yet to surrender everything."_

The feeling of despair as my world crumbled. Betrayal… the knowledge that I had been lied to… manipulated. The helpless feeling of being _owned_.

_I fell to the ground in agony. The pain I experienced was unlike anything I had ever known… or will ever know again. It was not only a physical pain… it was the all consuming, excruciating torture of my soul ripping in two. I screamed… but the voice did not sound like my own. _

_The pain stopped, and for the briefest of seconds I felt the numbing emptiness of having lost half of my very existence. But that did not last long. As soon as my screaming had ended, the Erlking lifted me up by the throat and dangled me above the ground._

"_You are mine!" he hissed, face contorting with glee. _

_His grip on my neck was cutting of my air supply and I choked when I tried to inhale. But then he breathed into me. A black mist flowed from his mouth and forced its way into my lungs. My chest reached its capacity and, for a moment, I thought my lungs might explode. I grew dizzy and my vision faded._

The way everything felt… darker. How every negative emotion increased tenfold and every positive emotion lightly poisoned.

"_You are perfect," he whispered fondly. _

I showed her my defiance of the Erlking. My oath to kill him. My flight from the forest.

The gifts of the dancer, the siren, and the warm lady.

"_I give you grace and agility, such as my own. Your reflexes will be quick and you will possess dexterity and elegance in movement unsurpassed by any other member of the human race. I wish you well, my friend."_

"_I give you a voice such as my own. You will sing with unparallel beauty and your voice shall have the power to entrance and persuade…"_

"_So much anger in you, child. I do not fear you… I fear for you. You are so young to possess so much hatred. It hurts me to see you so broken. I gift you with a heart, my child. Despite everything… you will have the ability to love. Whether you can be loved is up to you. But know that, if you reach for it, the capability is no longer beyond you."_

I stuttered and almost jerked away when that memory came forward. A heart? I had forgotten about that third gift. Was that what had happened? Is this why I was able to fall in love with Christine when I least suspected? Was I grateful or resentful of the power? I shook my head and pressed forward, filing that thought away for further thought but determined to finish what I had started with Christine just now.

Finally came the completion of my escape from the forest palace.

_The Erlking was gaining. _Only a few more steps_, I told myself, pushing my screaming limbs to work faster. The king's domain ended at the small stream just before that little hut. If I could only reach it…_

_Suddenly there was a roar and I turned to look at the Erlking one last time. He looked positively mad and his enraged howl had a timbre that bordered on… laughter. From behind his back he lifted a sparking, blue fireball, which he hurled at me with all his might. _

_I turned too late and the fireball struck me in the back. The force of the blast pushed me the remaining distance out of the forest and I barely had time to tuck my arms and legs around me before I hit the ground and rolled down the stream's embankment._

_First there was the pain. I felt the wound from the magic fireball sizzling on my back and… spreading. No, not spreading… it felt like it was _sinking _into my bones, lighting my nerves on fire as it worked its way through my blood and muscles like a poison. _

_The reflection in the water showed everything. My skin began to bubble and melted away. What remained quickly dried and cracked. I watched in horror as my flesh shriveled and my nose fell away and my eyes appeared to sink back in my skull. I screamed when I looked down at bony hands with skeletal fingers-it would seem the rest of my body was sharing the same grisly fate as my face. _

_I thought I was dying. I _knew _I was dying._

_But then it stopped._

_Suddenly, I wish I _had _died. I certainly looked the part. After the Erlking's vengeful magic had run its course, I bore the resemblance of one who had been dead and buried for many years. _

_I had become a living corpse._

It was Christine who withdrew first… forcing my hands from her face and recoiling into the sofa.

"It's too much," she sobbed. "I can't… I just _can't._"

"Christine! Angel, forgive me I… I thought that if you only _knew_…"

"NO! Just… leave me alone, okay? This is all so… No! I can't do this! Go away! Let me go!"

Before I could stop her, she flung herself away from me and raced out the door. My cries and apologies and pleas were lost in the slam that followed.

I remained kneeling on the ground, hands still outstretched as they were when I touched her face, apologizing to an empty room. Stripped bare and rejected for the second time in two days.

I wept.

-0-0-0-

Christine did not leave me in my right mind (if you could ever refer to it as such). She left me raw and pained and with nothing to lose…

Which is the only reason I can give to explain why I did what I did when the intruder alarm started ringing.


	28. Chapter 28

**AN - I know it's been awhile. Life's been... well... life. My baby keeps me busy, plus we sold our house and moved... and then we moved again. And now we're in a brand new state and looking for a job and, well, this story just sort of fell by the wayside with all my other hobbies. Anyway, I know this chapter is kind of short, but it's just the way they broke up.  
**

-0-0-0-

**Erik**

Any other day… any other _hour_… I simply would have killed them and considered another nuisance dispatched. Like exterminating house pests, only…

Actually, no. It was _exactly _like that. Back then I made no distinction between mice and trespassers. Insignificant differences, at any rate. Absence of tails and whatnot.

But at _that _moment…

At _that _moment, I wanted to _play_. I was hurt and burning and I wanted the world to feel the same way I was. Starting with Christine's _rescue party._

For surely, that is what it was. What else could it have been? I am not certain how my angel got message to her shining knight - if I had not been so arrogant, I might have searched the house more thoroughly before spiriting Christine away - but I had no doubt that it was he.

And, with all probability, he had probably brought along whichever of the Khan grandsons was currently acting as my governess. Self-sacrificing idiocy like that cannot possibly be a natural trait (logic dictates the gene would die out eventually); they probably beat it into them in the cradle.

Point being, there is usually a Khan buzzing around whenever I am doing something I am not supposed to be doing. And I suspect that breaking out of an asylum and kidnapping a pretty summer-hire in the process falls within the realm of things I am not supposed to be doing.

Surely enough, my security cameras detected _two _intruders bumbling around my catacombs. One of them was busy feeling up every inch of the wall beside the stairs (likely Khan, searching for trapdoors) while the other - Chagny - trailed behind, looking rather foolish with his hand up at the level of his eyes.

Honestly, I do not know why Nadir insists upon that. It may protect one from the Punjab lasso, but not from the thousand other ways I can kill a person. Hell, I could make a man kill _himself _ with my voice alone! Just because I _like_ using my lasso, does not mean I _need _to. He knows this, yet he still offers the advice. I suspect he is just being a spoilsport.

Trivialities. Anyway, secure in the knowledge that Christine was safely locked up inside my house, I took an evening stroll. Give my guests time to entangle themselves a little more thoroughly while I let my head clear enough for me to enjoy whatever it was I would decide to do to them.

Should I destroy them myself? Feel their bones snap under the pressure of my Punjab lasso? You can feel it, you know. Like little 'pops' vibrating up your arm. Tickles, really, unless you remember that they are emanating from someone hapless soul's delicate spinal column. Then it is a little sickening.

Or perhaps I could sing a pretty little song and drive them mad with hallucinations… convince them to fight to the death for my amusement. Then let the winner tear himself to tatters with his own teeth and nails until there is nothing recognizable left of either man.

I _had _been working on some experiments, long before my imprisonment, trying to overcome the amount of punishment a body could withstand before it succumbed. One can only withstand so much pain before the brain slips into unconsciousness. I had been working on ways to _deactivate_ that trigger, so to speak, and allow the subject an more… unabridged torture experience.

I no longer had any real desire to continue my serious study on the subject, but I could be convinced to reopen my research… just this once.

Part of me ached at the idea of torturing Nadir. Silly, sentimental thoughts, I know. It was the one emotion that worked through the foggy wall of hurt that Christine had left behind - that bone deep feeling that I would mourn his death just as I had with each of his ancestors.

_Perhaps I can spare him. Convince him to leave me the boy and return to the surface._

Yet, even as I thought it, I knew it would not be possible. Nadir would never walk away and leave me and my victims in peace. And, right now, that was what mattered. Nadir would ruin everything. He would not allow me to torture the Chagny boy, for one, but he would also try to take Christine away from me… and for that reason he could not be allowed to live.

I shook the maudlin thoughts out of my head. Khan made his choice. And he was hardly naïve to the consequences.

_But… perhaps Death might be kinder to him…_

Yes, _there _was a possibility. I knew it even as I could feel their approach. I could make it easy for him. Quick, painless.

I reached out with my mind and pictured Nadir. His body was not so different than the electrical system I disabled at the hospital - just a network of lines and connections. Touch here, interrupt this, pluck that, and I could cause an aneurism that would kill him instantly. So simple.

I went deeper. _There._ I found it. A weakness in his heart. Not blatantly noticeable, but it would surely kill him eventually. Not for awhile yet, but ten, twenty years before his time.

I could speed up nature. Quicken the inevitable and stop his heart now. It could never even be linked back to me.

But no. I sighed. Nadir would hate that. Ten generations of Khan's were probably rolling in their graves at the mere thought.

Well. The ones that had enough remains for me to bury, that is.

_Fine, fine. Erik will just have to play fair. _

I suddenly had such an exquisitely exciting idea that I had to stop myself from bouncing up and down like a child. Oh yes, this would be lovely. And plenty fair. It left their limbs unbound, their minds free, and they would not even have to face Erik head-on.

The would die - of course, everyone always did - but it would be entertaining to watch. The length of time and final cause of death was always anyone's guess, too, which I personally always thought added just a touch of whimsy to the game.

I found myself humming - relieved and slightly manic - as I started to flip the switches and levers that would alter the cellar paths and maneuver Khan and Chagny into my torture chamber.

-0-0-0-

My Chamber is a curious room. A simple hall of mirrors, if you will. No devices at all, really, save for a hangman's noose, which I leave as a courtesy.

Oh… and a little light that grows very hot, indeed, when reflected by all those mirrors.

Erik loves illusions, you see. It is but a tiny room, but Erik can make it seem as vast and as hot as the Sahara.

_But… not yet. _

I heard a click as the trap door latched shut.

_Almost…_

Chagny's voice. "Where are we? I can't see a thing? I thought you said you knew where we were going?"

_Not yet…_

"Quiet! He'll hear us! I… he must have changed the path. He must know we're here."

_Right in one, Khan. Now just…_

"All the more reason to figure out where we are. Will you at least turn on that flashlight you brought?"

A click. A pause. Realization.

_Wait for it…_

"N-no. No… it can't be."

"What?"

A horror-filled voice. "I know where we are."

_Now._

I flicked the switch and on popped the light.


	29. Chapter 29

**Erik**

Nadir screamed my name and pounded at the walls. The Chagny boy shouted his own sort of abuse - really the lad has quite a mouth on him, I wonder if Christine knows that - as well as some colorful suggestions that I take part in any number of acts that I am not certain are actually physically possible outside of a sideshow. Briefly I wondered if I should stay a bit an listen, but I rejected the idea. It would be some time before anything interesting happened. And mind games would hardly be any enjoyment at this juncture. I usually wait until at least a layer or two of reddened skin has peeled and my subject is half mad with dehydration before the real fun begins.

Besides, I felt collected enough to visit Christine again, and it had been long enough that she probably needed checking in on. If nothing else, she would probably be hungry.

What I did find was not at all what I had expected.

There she was… lying on the floor, moaning, with a large welt and two small cuts on the center of her forehead.

Instinctively I knew she was fine… relatively. Surely if she had died (or nearly died) I would have felt it. Though worry for my love overcame connection to my soul mate and I found myself on the ground beside her, checking her pulse and gently examining her injuries.

"My darling!" I gasped.

"Did it… did it work… did I?" Her bleary eyes focused on me and through our link I sensed a convoluted mixture of relief and disappointment. "Oh," she sighed.

Then it occurred to me. _Of all the stupid…_

"Christine, angel, did you try to kill yourself?"

"I had to! Don't you get it? I felt you. You were murderous. I didn't know what you'd do. But we were already hypothesizing that if I died you'd get your soul back, right? So you'd either be happy and normal again or you'd die of… really old age." She shrugged. "We just… we can't continue like this, Erik. I had to do _something_."

So she tried to kill herself so that _I _would die. Huh. I was not sure how I felt about that. Granted, she was going for the same result I was looking for… but I really could not help but feel at least a _little _insulted.

I carefully lifted her off the floor and set her down in my desk-chair. "There is an old adage about Hell and good intentions, my love," I scolded. She was strangely passive as I brushed back the hair from her face to better see the injury.

"Is it bad?" she asked, quietly, looking so soft and scared that I was not sure whether to laugh or cry.

"Certainly not, angel. If you planned to die tonight, you certainly had a foolish way of going about it. It is _very _difficult to kill oneself by hitting one's own head against a wall. Self-preservation, and whatnot. You might have a bit of a bruise come morning, though."

As I was speaking, I pulled a lasso out from each pocket and began to gently tie her wrists to the arms of the chair. I kept my voice steady and mellifluous throughout. She never struggled once.

"Nevertheless," I concluded, tightening the ropes, "it would seem that I can no longer trust you to be left alone. So Christine will just have to stay here and think about the consequences of her actions for awhile."

"What do y-" When I stood from my kneeling position, she also tried to stand; it was only then that she realized that she was bound. "ERIK! WHAT ARE YOU DOING? LET ME GO!"

"Well, you see angel, therein lies the problem. If I let you go, you might hurt yourself again."

"There was no other way!"

I threw myself at her feet, grasping at the hem of her jeans like the lunatic I was accused of being.

"But there _is_! Do you not see? Erik has found a way! Erik has decided to _keep _Christine! I do not want my soul back, angel. Erik only wants you! _You are _my soul now."

"You can't _do _that, Erik. It isn't fair."

"Haha!" I sneered. "What about _any _of this has been _fair_? Why can you not be happy, Christine? We will be married? Erik loves you! He has found a solution for us both! You will be his wife and be with him forever!"

"Forever?" she whispered in horror. "And you're not even giving me the choice? Maybe I'd _rather _just die now, huh? What if I thought that'd be a better option?"

Now it was my turn to be horrified. "Christine would rather _die_ than be with Erik? Really? _Die_?"

"That's not what I-"

"_Fine_." I snapped. "Christine shall have her _choice_. But think long and hard about it, Christine. Some choices are bigger than yourself. When the grasshopper jumps, he jumps jolly high."

I stormed out, ignoring her panicked cries behind me.

-0-0-0-

_Honestly_. I knew I was terrible. Still am. There is not really a way around that. When you do nothing but bad things for a couple hundred years, it is safe to assume you are probably a bad person. And there was always that pesky detail of my half my soul being replace by evil concentrate. Mustn't forget that.

_Still! _Was I truly so repulsive that _death_ was preferable to being loved by me? _Really_?

_So be it, then_, I thought. Who am I to disagree with my angel? For that matter… if death was really such a blessing, perhaps we should not be so selfish as to keep it to ourselves! _You think death is your salvation? Then I shall save _everyone! _Yes, Christine. You will be happy now, yes? Erik will give you what you want and more. Will you love him, then? _

Many years ago, I had invented tiny explosives - grasshoppers, I called them, because of their shape and size - which I planted throughout the foundation of the concert hall. I had enough sensitive… evidence, I suppose… lying around that I did not want anyone getting a hold of so, in the event of any capture or attack, it has always been my habit to destroy my current dwelling as I escaped. In the past I simply burned the place, but with each generation, I have become a little more efficient in my techniques. The grasshoppers were a work of art, in my opinion, as they were nearly undetectable and could be controlled by remote. Not to mention, being so small, they were pretty localized to the area I planned out. More than once I have been caught inside a burning building when one of my own fires grew out of control. In theory the grasshoppers would eliminate that risk and give me nothing but beautifully controlled devastation.

Anyway, my original intention had been to destroy the concert hall via remote when it came time to change hideouts, but I was captured before I had a chance to do so. I will be the first to admit… I was not exactly in top form at the time.

_But_, I reasoned, _Now is as good a time as any. _I _had _always wanted to test the grasshoppers out, and Christine had basically just given me carte blanche to do so.

And since I have never been the sort to do anything half wa_y…_

I left the cellars of the concert hall entirely and entered the city's underground tunnels.

With enough grasshoppers in my pocket to blow up three city blocks.


	30. Chapter 30

**I'm sure you don't care to hear about excuses but I AM sorry for the delay. My laptop died the forever kind of death. So I had to redo a lot and try to write little bits at a time using other people's computers. I WOULD promise the next chapter will but up quickly... but I'm not sure who would believe me anymore, I've said that so often. Sorry, again. **

Last chapter: Erik comes back to his lair to discover that Christine has made a crude attempt to kill herself. He is hurt and furious that she would choose death as a better option than life with him. In retaliation, he takes some explosives - grasshoppers - and scatters them under the city.

* * *

**Erik**

My trespassers had worked themselves into a right state by the time I had returned. I overheard bits of conversation between them and Christine on the other side of the wall that made my blood boil.

"Just… hang on, Raoul. I'll figure out a way to get you out of there. He loves me, he said so. Maybe if I just go along with it…"

"NO! Don't you dare, Christine!"

_That is right. Don't you dare, Christine_, I repeated viciously in my mind. She still thought to manipulate me after everything we had been through.

_She must really love the boy to take the risk._

I shook off that vile thought. It hurt too much. She was _my _angel. _I _needed her more than he did.

_But does she need _you?

"Agh!" I groaned, tearing at my hair in a feeble attempt to rip the unpleasant doubts from my mind.

"Erik?" A soft voice, concerned. I had given away my location.

"Yes, angel?" I answered, drawing myself up. No need to show weakness at this juncture. She had already seen me on my knees and rejected me. In favor of death, at that! Well, never again. Now it was time for strength.

"Where were you… I… I missed you."

"I was preparing a… wedding present, my dear."

She paled, and for a moment I wondered if she had some idea what I had been up to. "Oh? I would very much like to see it. Would you untie me?"

_Clever girl._ "How can I give you my gift until you have decided whether you will be my wife? And, as for untying you… you know that I wish I could, my dear. But I cannot risk you hurting yourself again."

"Yeah, about that… um… look, I know it was stupid. And I'm sorry. I won't do it again, really. I don't know what I was thinking. But I have enough of a headache as it is, you know? I wouldn't do anything else. But, I think these ropes are cutting off my circulation."

I panicked for a moment when she told me of her physical discomfort. I never want that for her. Is it ironic that I was prepared to blow us both to smithereens but the thought of her bearing a headache and chafed wrists made me ill?

Backwards logic or not, I quickly released her, rubbing the pinkish marks on her arms.

"Oh I have hurt you…" I moaned softly, "I _deserve _to die. _Why can I not die?_ I have done the unforgiveable and hurt my Christine."

I continued in this fashion for only a few seconds before I felt a wave of peaceful reassurance push into me. Christine must be projecting again. She removed one of her hands from mine and ran it through my hair.

"Shh. It's fine, Erik. It's okay now." I knew she was play acting, but damned if her touch did not feel good…

_How much better would her kisses feel? _My traitorous brain wondered. I froze. _What an odd thought! _And not for the obvious, self-destructive how-could-I-entertain-such-ideas-of-an-angel reason. No… I mean… I had never been kissed before. Not on the mouth. The closest anyone had come was… _him. _When he took my soul. _Could a kiss be the key?_ Would it be worth asking her to try? Then… was I abandoning the idea of keeping her… just die myself… I… I…

_I do not know _what _I want anymore_.

I sighed. Whatever happened to my time-for-strength resolve? I was going mad. _She _was driving me mad.

There was a series of thumps and I was suddenly brought back to reality. Christine stiffened. _Ah yes. The boy. The reason Christine is stomaching my presence instead of cowering in her room._

"Did you hear something?" I asked, innocently.

"No! I didn't hear anything! I'm sure you're imagining things. Hey I'm thirsty, do you think you could go get me something to drink?"

"_Christine! Are you still there?" _a muffled voice shouted followed by two more thumps.

"Now I am quite sure I heard _that._ My dear, Christine, I believe we have visitors. Shall I go and check? There is a little window at the top of that ladder. It is hidden behind the painting."

"N-no! I'll go! You just… you stay put. I'll check."

I smiled, but it was not a particularly happy smile. "How very thoughtful of you angel. Yes, perhaps you can check, and tell Erik what you see. Alright, now, up you go."

She gave me a nauseous smile and climbed the short ladder and pushed aside the portrait I had blocking the window to the torture chamber.

"Well?" I asked.

"Nope! Nothing!"

"I must have been hearing things, then. You must be patient with your Erik; he has had a trying day."

"Erik? This wall is… really hot. What's going on in there?"

"Oh that is just the light in the mirror room, angel. The reflections do tend to… heat it up rather quickly. It is good there is no one in there. I daresay it would be quite uncomfortable, by now!"

"ERIK! You must turn the light off!"

"I will later, Christine. There is no hurry. As you say, there is no one in there to be bothered by it."

"STOP IT!" She screamed, tugging at her hair. "Just _stop_, okay! Quit playing games with me. I know you know."

"Know what?" I sneered, "That Christine is a little liar? That she plays with Erik's heart? That she keeps his soul and will not give it back when he asks?"

"I DON'T KNOW _HOW_!"

"THAT IS NOT MY FAULT_!_"

"That's right! None of this is your fault, right? Not you killing all those people… kidnapping the first girl who was ever nice to you. Even right now, you're torturing Raoul and that poor janitor and I bet you don't even feel the slightest bit bad about it!"

"They want to take away my Christine! You are_ mine_, angel. _My_ soul, _my_ heart. Do you not remember the pain that comes from us being apart? We _must _be together. _Must_. And if the boy needs to die for this to happen then, no, I have no reason to regret it."

I was suddenly feeling—how do I describe it?—wild. Feral. I was pacing around, scratching my arms like I'd seen some of the other mental patients do in moments of mania. I saw Christine's jaw working up and down silently but I jumped in with another thought before she had a chance to reply. "And YOU were the one singing the praises and virtues of death just moments ago! You should be thanking me. I am giving your young man a gift, am I not? A gift like the other…"

"What other?"

I shifted uncomfortably, not having meant to reveal my grasshoppers in such a fashion.

"Erik?"

"Nothing. Nothing!"

"What. Other." She repeated inching closer to me. She was close… too close. Normally I would be rejoicing, but not now. I felt too animal… panicked. _No. Back. Get away… too close. _She reached for me and I jerked back only to find my back pressed to the wall. Cornered.

I screamed and it turned into hysterical laughter that made the pounding on the walls increase in their fervor.

"_Christine!" _The boy called.

"_Erik!" _That was Khan's voice I was hearing.

Christine's eyes were impossibly huge. "_Raoul_…" she whispered, grabbing my hands and holding them with strength I had no idea her tiny body would possess. She would not turn me loose! "What have you done, Erik? Are you… are you going to kill people? Is that why you keep mentioning death? You actually have some sick plan that you're gonna—"

I shook her. "Make up your _mind_, Christine! Christine does not know what she _wants!_"

"Just don't do it… whatever you have planned. I'm begging you. Forget this 'gift' or whatever. I don't want it. Release Raoul and I'll stay and give you whatever you want. I'll give you back your soul or I'll stay and marry you or I'll—"

"LIAR! Christine says one thing and does another! She says death is preferable… but then she begs for the boy's life. No longer! No more words." I reached into my coat pocket and withdrew a small box, which I then tossed to her. She scrambled to catch it and then gingerly held it away from her as if it were a bomb. _If only you knew! Heehee!_

"_You _make the choice, since everything I do displeases you so. This remote control will give _you_ the power over life and death, not Erik. Erik is the scorpion on the left. Turn it and you will marry me. Or… if you prefer not… then turn the grasshopper on the right."

"What happens then?"

"A click… and then a jump!"

"What about Raoul? Will you let him go?"

I waved a hand dismissively, though through our bond I doubt I could have hidden the tumultuous emotions roaring through me when she mentioned _that name_. "Irrelevant. If you choose the scorpion, he will no longer be your concern. If you choose the grasshopper, he will… hop… along with us."

"Erik! You are being so… so… vague! Stop talking in riddles!"

"Am I? I thought I had been so very clear." Suddenly I started to laugh. I laughed and laughed until I doubled over and had to turn away and remove my mask to catch my breath. Christine looked horrified, yet I could not stop laughing!

"Erik... you're scaring me…"

"Haha! Oh, Erik scares _himself _sometimes, angel. Heehee! But that is neither here nor there. I must go now and Christine time to think. Hahaha! Oh how _easy _it could be! Hop, jump, marriage with Death teehee! Not for Erik, though, he needs his soul. Yes a soul for me and one for you…"

A small part of my mind was jumping around, trying to convince the rest of me that I was becoming unhinged. That rational sliver knew I was laughing beyond what this situation called for, that I was frightening Christine. _Why is she not laughing _with_ me? Does she not see how perfectly absurd our lives have become? _I had to leave. The sides of my consciousness were warring and… it was almost as if I could _feel_ my mind start to fracture. Yes, better leave now. Give myself something else to focus on.

"I shall be back soon, Christine. Make your choice. Do not hesitate too long. I love you."

-0-0-0-

I have never been very traditional in the operation controls of my inventions. Why should I? I am the only one who needs to understand them. One hardly bothers to label controls—on, off, up, down, higher, brighter—unless they wish for _other_ users to comprehend their machine. I do not concern myself with that for the same reason I do not write instruction manuals.

So, suffice it to say, the remote device linked to my grasshoppers was not a standard control. It was almost a work of art, actually. An intricately carved box of wood and bronze, which would look at home on a mantelpiece somewhere. On one side, a bronze sculpted grasshopper which, when turned, would activate the explosives. On the other side, an equally detailed figure of a scorpion which would cause a vital component of the explosives to detach, rendering them permanently inactive.

The grasshopper is obvious. But why a scorpion, you ask?

I like scorpions. They are interesting little creatures… incredibly diverse, resilient, resourceful. Perhaps it is because I have lived so long and traveled so much that I appreciate them as I do. Every culture and every era has looked upon the creatures with different eyes. They are manifestations of evil and instruments to combat evil, depending on where (and when) you are. They are gods, guardians, sex symbols, poisons and medicines.

You do not know what the scorpion will be. It is always something different.

And that is what that figurine was. It was more than an off-switch. It was a _symbol_. Turn the grasshopper and he will jump jolly high. Turn the scorpion and… something else will happen. The city might not blow up… but so what? Would Christine fall desperately in love with me? Throw herself into my arms? Off a cliff? Would I still kill the boy and Khan? Would we leave this cellar, find a home? Would I continue to live forever? Would Christine remain mortal? How would that work? Was my soul lost to me?

One could not know. That was the nature of the scorpion.

Funny thing, really, that I would be so attracted to the mystery. I was the one who always had everything figured out… planned to the last detail. But, in this case, I simply _could not know_. And I found that… hilarious.

Maybe I was going mad, after all.

With a sigh, I glanced down at my watch. I had been sitting in the hallway, giggling and thinking about insects for an hour now. Perhaps it was time for me to go in and check on my angel.

_We have not blown up, yet_, I thought. _That could be a good sign. Or not. Who really knows anymore?_

"Who knows, indeed?" I chuckled, rising from the floor and dusting myself off. Time to greet the future.


	31. Chapter 31

**Erik**

I was understandably angry when I entered the room again, an hour later, to see my angel searching the wall, trying to find a way into the torture chamber while conversing with her boy. Actually, in retrospect, I believe it was my irritation she sensed first as I am quite positive I made no noise, yet she gasped and turned to see me.

"You have made yourself busy, I see."

"Where have you been?"

"Is Christine accusing Erik of something? Or is she merely asking out of _wifely curiosity_?"

"I—"

I took that moment to glance over at the untouched grasshopper-scorpion-remote. "I see you have not made a decision yet," I stated the obvious.

"Please don't do this, Erik, you have to—"

"Make your choice, Christine. Grasshopper or scorpion?"

"This is insane!"

"Haha! Insane? Perhaps, what else would you expect, my dearest? Oh poor crazy Erik… Christine's little pet project. You could not stay away—"

"Quit—"

"Could not save yourself—"

"NO—"

"Return to your _sane_ little world with your safe little friends—"

"Stop it!"

"—because, deep down, you know that Erik's madness is _inside you too_. And he is calling to it. And he wants it back. Wants _you _back."

"Please… please don't…"

"Make. Your. Choice."

"Erik, I swear I'll—"

I took the remote and held it between us, my hand hovering dangerously over the grasshopper switch. "CHOOSE NOW OR I WILL CHOOSE FOR YOU!"

"FINE!" She cried out. Her arm made a jerk that was near epileptic in violence. Then she collapsed, exhausted, to the floor. I looked at the device, which had clattered to the ground between us. She did not simply turn the scorpion; she nearly wrenched it clean off! "Fine," she repeated, softer. "I chose you. You win. What happens now?"

What happens now? It was a very good question.

-0-0-0-

I blinked stupidly for a moment, quietly observing the trembling woman and the mangled remote control. _What happens now_?

We were both saved from answering because, at that moment, the walls shook with the thunder-grind of gears that had been still far too long.

"Curse you, Khan!" I bellowed.

Christine jumped. "What _was _that?"

"_That_, my dear wife, was my Persian friend looking for an exit. What he triggered, instead, was the chamber's decontamination cycle. I imagine those two are feeling quite a bit of relief at the moment as the room fills with water. But in approximately ten minutes, the addition of caustic chemicals and disinfectants will… well… suffice it to say that your friends will probably wish they had left well enough alone."

"Erik! Let them go! You have to do something!"

"Do I?" I mused. I was tired of this argument. So tired.

Apparently so was Christine, as she just went back to staring at the ground.

"I _chose_ you," she said in a very small voice. "Doesn't that count for anything? It's already done." Then she turned her head away and shut her eyes as if shying away from a bright light. "Please just do this for me," she whispered.

That was it. No more screaming, no threats… no tears or ultimatums. Just six words whispered in the most defeated tone I had ever heard. How could I refuse?

"There are some towels in the hall closet and some extra quilts in the trunk under your bed. Go fetch those and any others you can find and bring them back here. I will meet you in a few minutes."

She did not speak, but sprang to her feet and projected her shock into my mind. I am sure she, in turn, felt my own unease—there was no need to warn her not to make me regret this.

-0-0-0-

I groaned softly, surveying the scene before me. The process of draining the chamber is a violent one, as it is meant to scrub away any residues left by the victim's remains which, by that point, would have been liquefied by the combination of chemicals. I had designed it this way on purpose. The clean-up was never as cathartic for me as the torture session itself, and I rarely had to deal with subjects that had been left alive. And _never_ had I had to deal with a living victim with whom I had any level of vested interest, no matter how remote.

I had, of course, aborted the process early enough that Nadir and the boy were merely soaked and not dissolved, but the water leaves the chamber with such rapid speed that they had likely cracked ribs and their tender, burned skin had split open in places.

I stifled the urge to rub my eyes. This was going to be inconvenient.

_Please do this for me._

The voice of my angel stood out in my mind. A wife's request. Of course I would do what she required to keep her happy.

But that did not mean I was going to enjoy it.

When the doors finally opened, I entered the sodden room with a sneer. "Congratulations, gentlemen. Your execution has been stayed."

-0-0-0-

Christine was waiting for me with towels and some rudimentary medical supplies by the time I had extracted the first of the men – Nadir, because he was closest – from the chamber.

"Oh…" she gasped. The warmth in her heart irked me. She scarcely knew this man. Why did she not feel such tenderness toward _me_? "Is he alive?"

I am afraid I was harsher than I intended in my response. "He is. Just unconscious. Tend to him but, should he wake, you are not to speak to him. This goes for your _boy _as well, is that understood? You are _mine_ now."

"Yeah. Alright… that's okay. Whatever you want, Erik. Just let them go."

"_I said I would,_ did I not?" I snapped.

-0-0-0-

I was somewhat less gentle in my handling of the boy, if his groans were anything to go by. It could hardly be helped, I still hated him with every fiber of my being. I am still baffled that I was able to even touch him without killing him, as I had the others. My 'touch of death' seemed to have been blocked. Perhaps that was Christine's renewed influence in my life?

Nevertheless, Christine said not a word as I tossed him onto a pile of sheets. However, much to my displeasure, she ran over to him and ran gentle fingers through his hair. He was groaning, waking up, and she began murmuring to him.

"What did I tell you, Christine?"

"Can't I at least say goodbye?"

Her voice tugged my memory again—_I chose you. Doesn't that count for anything?—_and I felt sick.

"Khan is in need of medical attention. I must return him to the surface first. You may have a few moments." Then I lifted my once-friend onto my shoulders and headed for the streets above.

-0-0-0-

There is a free-clinic near the concert house. A somewhat rundown establishment that caters mostly to prostitutes and the homeless, but they would be able to keep Khan stable and arrange for transport to a hospital, so I had no qualms with leaving him on their doorstep and quickly making my way back to Christine.

I did not trust her in the hands of that boy. Beyond that, the bond was already beginning to protest our distance. I could feel a frost burgeoning in my chest.

-0-0-0-

Christine was still murmuring to the boy when I returned.

"He's coming, Raoul. He will take you up to the surface. Just… stay safe, okay? Don't worry about me. I'll be okay as long as I know you're safe."

She was drying his hair now with profound tenderness. If she were to touch me in such a way, I would have died of happiness… torn soul or no. Yet the boy did not even register the gift for what it was. He grabbed her wrists and held them still.

"Christine, stop this! There's still time! Help me stand up; we can get out of here together before he comes back. We can leave the country… we could—"

"There is nowhere you could go that I would not find her," I said, in response.

Christine wrenched herself out of Chagny's grip and looked at me with the wild-eyed apprehension of a child caught stealing a cookie out of the jar.

An absurd comparison, yes, but that was exactly how she looked!

"Erik… I…"

"Do not fear, my wife. Your Erik knows you are faithful to him. It seems the boy is the one who needed to be reminded."

"You said you wouldn't hurt him!"

"And I shall not. But I will take him from this place and _he_ will remember that it is only by my will that breath remains in his body."

-0-0-0-

"You know she'll never love you," he said.

"Silence! She is the only reason you live. Erik listened to his wife's request to spare your unworthy carcass."

He fell into a coughing fit, and then groaned in pain. His skin was dry and tight—even the slightest movement caused it to crack and ooze. No doubt the pain was unimaginable. I tightened my grip on his torso, digging my fingers into his blisters. _He knows _nothing _of true pain._

"That's 'cause she has more heart than sense. And she loves me, no matter what you say. You're sick in the head… she knows it. All killing me would do is make her hate you instead of pity you."

His words struck me, needled my insecurities, and I wondered how a man could have the audacity to speak this way to the man who was supporting the bulk of his weight as we climbed to the surface. How foolish! Why, I could just leave him there and he would be utterly helpless.

_Helpless. _

_No chance of escape._

_Christine would never have to know…_

_Unless…_

Unless she forgot her loyalties again. _Yes._ The cogs in my brain turned; I would leave him alive, but trapped. Hopefully I would never need him—Christine would learn to love me on her own—but I would also have a small bit of leverage in my back pocket in case she reneged on her promise.

I took an unexpected turn, violently jolting the boy as I did so.

"Whe-where are we going?"

"Your words have given me much to think about. For once, Chagny, you are going to make yourself useful."

-0-0-0-

My reunion with Christine was all awkwardness and exhaustion.

Far too much had happened today.

"My wife," I said, ignoring her shudder at the endearment, "you are tired. Perhaps you should sleep."

She stepped closer to me and took my hand. We both closed our eyes and breathed deeply, together feeling the energizing rush that only came from our physical contact.

She slowly released me and stepped away. "As you wish, Erik," she murmured, looking up at me with dead eyes.

Her expression may have been unreadable, but our bond revealed the truth.

I felt wave after wave of emotion coming from Christine: sadness. She was so very, very sad. It confused me, to be honest. Of course I expected sadness… but I also thought she would be angry or frustrated or… I do not know… _something_.

But no. Just simple, overwhelming, bone crushing, sorrow.

And I suddenly found myself doubting my ingenious plan.

How could I live with myself, even for a moment, knowing that I took her true love from her and broke her too-trusting heart?

"This is wrong," I said softly, taking her hands. She gasped and looked up at me. "Forgive me, Christine, I was wrong. Go. Go with your boy. He is in the cellars, yet. I had… I had meant to keep him… as…"

"A hostage…" she whispered, realizing.

I nodded. "Yes, so that you would stay with me. But I cannot force you to stay with me. This is not the way. The Erlking tried to force Erik to stay… and he ruined Erik's life. Erik's angel has _saved _Erik's life… so Erik must not ruin her life. It is clear that Erik must not force his angel to stay. Christine must go with her boy, whom she loves."

My explanation may have been a bit convoluted, but my reasoning was sound, and I could tell by Christine's expression and by the release of tension in her emotions that she understood what I was saying.

"Erik, I don't know what to say. How-"

"I do have a request of you," I cut her off, nervously.

"Anything," she said earnestly, and I knew she meant it.

There was a way. That small possibility I had considered. If I could release her… maybe she would at least _try _to release me.

"Erik would like very much to die now. Could he… could _I_ trouble you for a kiss? Just a small one! I… I have given it some thought. I think that there is another way for me to have back my soul without harm coming to you. To do to me what the Erlking did… only to do it as an act of mercy. Give Erik his soul so that he may die. A small kiss, I beg of you. Just… think very hard about the extra soul you are holding. Concentrate on the part you would give me… and then… then…" I trailed off as I saw the fallen expression on her face.

If possible, her sorrow deepened even more. Her gaze shifted from my eyes to my mouth and I could almost _feel _the tears burning her eyes.

I backpedaled. What else could I do?

"N-no! Do not be sad! Erik begs your forgiveness, yet again. Just go. I should not have asked. Go now… go to your boy and to your life and leave me."

She did not leave. Merely stared at me blankly - consuming sadness and another burgeoning emotion I could not identify.

I snarled. _Why will she not leave?_

You cannot understand the humiliation of being so very repulsive that the woman you adore most could not even bear to… not even just once… not even in the name of pity…

Not even in the name of _pity_. She would not even pity her poor Erik a kiss.

Never had I wanted to die so much as I did in that moment. The irony was not lost on me that I was to be denied this as well. I was the embodiment of bitterness.

"GO, CHRISTINE! LEAVE!"

But still she did not go. Instead she stepped forward… slid her hands over my shoulders, behind my neck.

Pressed her lips to mine.

I choked back my shock and parted my mouth to her, feeling her press more firmly in response.

For the briefest moment I reveled in the simple, physical, human feeling of being close to _her _before I was overcome by the more magical sensation… the distantly familiar feeling of being _breathed _into long and deep until you thought your cells would explode from the pressure. Only instead of pain, this time it was ecstasy. Completeness. Darkness shoved aside to make room for light. Like balm poured onto a wound, liberally and without ceasing.

But then…

After an endless moment, Christine pulled back. _No, no, no! _This was not right! Something was very wrong. What was that half-smile she was giving me? Did she not know?

Her eyes went wide and then rolled up into her head and she collapsed onto the floor.

I clutched at my chest and fell to one knee. I had just one thought before I joined my angel in unconsciousness.

_Christine… what have you done?_


	32. Part Four Christine

**Christine**

I couldn't do it.

How could I?

How could anyone?

He wanted me to _kill _him. By… kissing him. Like that girl from X-men… only, you know, intentional.

It was too much to ask. Too much for me to wrap my already-throbbing brain around. I felt overwhelmed. I shouldn't have to make that choice. It simply wasn't fair. It wasn't right. I was just… this random girl… who happened to be bonded with him in some weird, unexplainable way. I didn't sign up for this. I just wanted to be nice to a guy that was being abused by the system.

How on earth did it all come down to this?

-0-0-0-

I'd been crying… sitting in the chair I'd been tied to and trying not to hyperventilate. I'd never been so afraid. _What was Erik planning?_

"Hello? Can anyone hear us?"

"Raoul!" I cried. He had come! I knew he would. But where was he? "Keep talking, Raoul. I'm trying to find you!"

I heard a pounding and followed the sound. He was just behind the wall. I knocked back from my side. "Oh Raoul! I'm right here… on the other side of the wall. I can't believe you found me!"

"Yeah, I found your note and called the number on it. Nadir is with me… he led me here."

The note… it worked! I knew it would be a long shot, but it was the best I had. When Erik came for me, I begged him for a shower. He conceded, surprisingly. I turned the water on full blast—for continuity's sake—and set to work prying up the loose tile behind the sink.

I knew Raoul would come for me eventually. I just had to give him something to go on.

When we were kids, Raoul and I would play detective. His house was always immaculate and perfectly maintained, which made for a pretty lame crime scene. But _my _house… full of loose floorboards and creaky hinges (ignored by a father who was musician than handy-man) was practically a playground for miniature explorers/detectives/secret agents/what-have-you.

There was one particular loose tile, in the guest bathroom, that was just big enough to hide messages. Why did a couple of kids who spent all their time together need to leave secret messages? I dunno… probably for the same reason you get cootie-shots and the floor is made of lava.

Anyway, the point was we had this secret panel. Maybe Raoul would remember…

I took a tissue and eyeliner pencil and, after several attempts and several torn tissues, managed to write the message: 'Nadir Khan – Snowdrop Garden Institute'.

Honestly, there were so many variables; I had no idea if it would work. But I hoped.

"Look… Christine… you've gotta find some way to get us out of here."

"I can't. I'm all tied up."

If I could see Raoul, his face would have been bright red, almost purple. I'd bet money on it. He was always so protective of me.

"That _snake_. He tied you up? How could he do that?"

"It's… complicated," I said, my fingers barely grazing my bruising forehead. I had a splitting headache. "It's my own fault, really."

"Don't you EVER say that, do you hear me, Christine? Never think anything he's done is your fault! Now… tell me what happened."

I sighed. I didn't want to talk about it. I was embarrassed that I'd been so inept… and somewhat ashamed at myself for thinking it was a good idea in the first place. "I… tried to kill myself."

"Chri—"

"I _know_! I don't need to hear it from you, okay? I know it was stupid. I just… didn't see any way out."

"I wasn't going to accuse you," he said, so softly that I almost didn't hear it through the wall. "I'm just so sorry you felt that was your only choice. I'm sorry I wasn't there to protect you."

"It doesn't matter, Raoul. He would have just killed you. Probably wouldn't even give it a second thought."

"That—"

I interrupted him; this conversation wasn't doing either of us any good. And I was irritated; the tears falling onto my cheeks began to itch since I wasn't able to use my hands to wipe my face. "Just… hang on Raoul. I'll figure out a way to get you out of there. He loves me, he said so. Maybe if I just go along with it…"

"NO! Don't you dare, Christine!"

Whatever. He could threaten me if he wanted. I'd been intimidated by the best of them… suddenly Raoul's demands seemed almost child-like.

I heard a grunt—like someone being punched in the gut—and felt a sense of desperation that didn't feel quite like my own.

"Erik?"

"Yes, angel?" He answered calmly. Ugh. How could he always be so collected? I wish I could do that.

"Where were you?" I asked, doing everything to block my true emotions with happy thoughts. "I… I missed you." There. I'd said it. And if I could make myself believe it… then maybe he'd believe it too.

"I was preparing a… wedding present, my dear." He answered. Suddenly I felt sick. I can't describe it other than to say he was using that 'serial-killer voice'. Like, I imagine some manic grin plastered to his face under that mask. Just… go watch some horror flicks. You'll see what I mean.

I swallowed hard and tried to lie, knowing the whole time it was useless. "Oh? I would very much like to see it. Would you untie me?"

He and I went back and forth until he finally untied me and… kinda had a meltdown when he saw that there were little red marks where the ropes had been. Poor guy… he is really attached to me. I felt bad deceiving him, to be honest. Like… I was doing it… but my heart wasn't really in it. For a brief moment, I gave in and ran my fingers through his hair like my father used to do to me when I was upset.

I like Erik's hair. It's all fine and soft… like a baby's. And the way he gasped and shuddered made me feel powerful… which, believe me, was a rare feeling.

Of course it was that moment that Raoul decided to make himself known. I felt nervous—as if he caught me having a tender moment with Erik and was calling me on it—and horribly guilty. I was doing this _for Raoul_. _He _was the important one, here. The one whose life was on the line. The _reason_ I was going to break Erik's heart.

But, as much as I needed the reminder… Raoul really couldn't have worse timing.

Erik heard him and I had to scramble to keep him from being discovered. I should have known Erik wouldn't be fooled by my totally transparent blustering.

But when I found out what was _in _that room with Raoul and Nadir…

"Oh that is just the light in the mirror room, angel. The reflections do tend to… heat it up rather quickly. It is good there is no one in there. I daresay it would be quite uncomfortable, by now!"

Oh hell.

We screamed, I cried, he laughed and I pleaded. In the end, he gave me an ultimatum—stay with him or he'll blow everything up—and left me alone.

I _hated_ being left alone. Hated it more now that I felt cold and achy every time he left my sight. Double-dog-hated it now that I had some life-changing (er… ending?) decision on my shoulders.

Meanwhile Raoul's still pounding away on the wall and trying to talk to me. Why did his presence make me feel even more alone?

Of course the choice was obvious—what kind of sociopath would let everyone else die, just to get out of a scary marriage prospect?—I just resented how forced it was.

Melodramatic as it sounds, I felt _doomed_. Like Erik and I were just destined to go on hurting each other forever.

I'd feel trapped and lash out, and Erik would see it as betrayal, panic, and clamp down on me harder. As if I was in a B horror movie, stuck on a merry-go-round that I couldn't get off.

And do you want to know the really messed up part of it?

At the end of the day, we were still _there_ for each other. There was this _something_ about him that made me want to hold on for dear life.

Like the first night I spent there, with Erik. It was pretty much _us _in a nutshell.

-0-0-0-

I remember it so clearly. That night… I couldn't get warm. I kept piling blankets on myself, but I sort of knew it wouldn't work. It felt like the cold was coming from the inside of me.

I had done a horrible thing to Erik, taking his mask like that. I knew it the instant he touched me. It was like… nothing I've ever experienced. Like… like I was just… _sucked_ into his mind. One minute I was on the floor, staring into his angry eyes, and the next I was in this… dark cave. I'd say it was a vacuum, but that's not quite right… Erik's mind is far from empty. Actually, I could see his thoughts above me like turbulent clouds. Calculations, ideas, melodies… in the middle of it all was a scene, playing like a television: Erik's skeletal hands gripping the face of, well, me—_Good heavens! Do I really look like that? I am _not _a pretty crier!—_and shaking and twisting while his own tears splashed on my cheeks.

But I was below all that. Underneath those rolling storm clouds was a pitch-black _nothingness_. No floor or walls. Not even any—

_No, wait… I think I see someone out there…_

"Hello!" I called out. "Can you hear me? Who's there?"

I ran forward, hoping to get a clearer glimpse of the figure in the distance.

It was a boy. No, a man. No, a teenager. No, now it was a boy again. It was a person… flickering around like a fire—growing, shrinking, changing shape. Like he couldn't decide what he wanted to be. It was Erik—did I mention that?—I recognized his many forms from the dreams I'd been having.

He was muttering to himself. Kind of… whining… if it could be called that. It's hard to describe really, since his voice kept changing to keep up with his current form, and his mouth was obscured by the hands covering his face. "No no no no… why? Why would she do this? Ruined everything… ruined it all…"

"Erik," I called, hesitantly. His head popped up like I'd startled him. He stopped changing (an adult man, just as the 'real' Erik was) and turned to face me.

"Why, Christine?" he pleaded.

He dropped his hands. I gasped.

It was… horrible. Like his skin had tried to shrivel up and melt off at the same time. There was no nose to speak of… and two vacant sockets that looked far too big for his cat-like eyes. The complete picture was… fragile looking—like one of those mummies you see in museums that look leathery and paper thin at the same time.

"Why?" he repeated.

"Wha-what do you mean? I didn't do this to you!"

"You do not understand. Why did you have to… must you always…I only wanted…" he sighed, "Only wanted…"

"Only wanted what, Erik?" I coaxed.

He huffed, shrugged, and put his hands in his pockets. A surprisingly juvenile action for someone I've always seen as grace incarnate.

I watched him as he paced, gestured and occasionally breathed as if he was about to answer, and then thought better of it.

I pushed with my mind and sensed his emotions, peeling back the layers. They were confused, disorderly… anger, frustration, maddening compulsion for closeness, single-minded devotion, a disturbingly primitive drive to bite me somewhere conspicuous, and a tenderness that made me want to cry in shame.

But then… I found it_. _Underneath it all… was this unnamed desire for… _something_.

Up above, in the storm clouds, I could see Erik continue to wrestle me to the floor, screaming something about marriage. I shook my head and looked back to the scene in front of me. What went on 'out there' was not important at the moment.

"I just want…" With a helpless sob, Erik started to morph again. De-aging slowly as he continued to flounder, searching for words to describe something too complicated to explain.

No… too _simple_ to explain.

"I just wanted…" He was a child now, very small. He flopped to the ground and stared up at me with beseeching eyes, finally able to say what was beyond the ability of his adult counterpart.

"Yes? What is it Erik?"

"I just wanted you to be nice to me."

With that, I was tossed out of his mind.

I was on the floor, below him. He shook me and shouted, but I was in too much shock to resist him. My mind reeled with the child-Erik's crushingly innocent desire. _I just wanted you to be nice to me._

"Really?" I whispered.

He let me go. I ran like a coward.

-0-0-0-

So there I was, just tossing and turning and reviewing the recent events.

_No, this bed is no good, at all._ I climbed out and paced restlessly. I thought sleeping would help, but the attempt was just making me more miserable. Even after apologizing and after he used his voice to make me sleepy (Yes, I did figure out what he was up to), I couldn't relax. It was too cold.

Then suddenly… it wasn't anymore.

I felt a heat somewhere in the room, and I was drawn to it. It seemed to be coming from the door. I followed the warmth, feeling calmer with each step. I put my hand on the door's surface and nearly cried in relief. _Yes… this is it. This is what I needed._

I scurried as quickly as I could back to the bed to bundle up my pillow and blankets before returning to the door. I made a little nest for myself there, on the floor, and curled up with my hand and forehead resting against the door.

Despite the odd position, I slept well.

-0-0-0-

Do you see? This round-and-round nature of our relationship. Tug and pull and so, so much fear.

But now he'd gone too far. It was one thing when it was just the two of us, but now he was threatening innocents. Threatening the boy I'd been on the verge of falling in love with.

Enough was enough. We _had_ to stop this.

"Christine! Please… please help us. It's so hot in here." Oh poor, poor Raoul. His voice cracked as he spoke. I'd felt how hot the wall was on my side. They were cooking alive in there.

I had to help them. Even just get them a glass of water. _Anything_. If I could just find a way in there.

A deeper voice addressed me. "Miss Daae, I know Erik well. He will have connected a… lever… or a button. Something hidden that will trigger the unlocking mechanisms and cause the door to open. Search the surface of the wall… look for anything out of place."

I nodded—pointlessly, since he couldn't see me—and started feeling around the area.

"I love you, Christine," Raoul said passionately.

"It's… it's gonna be okay," I said in response. "Don't worry guys, I'll get you out of there. Just hang in there."

"Talk to me," He begged. "I just need to hear your voice." His appeal broke my heart. I think he knew he was dying. I redoubled my efforts to find the latch.

"What do you want me to say?"

"I don't know. Anything. Tell me a story. Remember when we were kids? You were always so good at telling stories."

"Okay," I breathed nervously. I started tossing books to the floor from the shelves, hoping one of them was some kind of hidden lever. "A story. Well… um… okay, I got one. Little Lotte though of everything and nothing—"

I stopped. Something wasn't right. I suddenly felt irritated—angry, even—but I couldn't place a rational cause to the feeling. Which could mean only one thing: that it wasn't _my _emotion.

"You have made yourself busy, I see."

Erik.

"Where have you been?" I demanded, hiding my shaky hands behind my back and managing to look even _more _guilty.

We argued some more, if you could call it that. Erik was toying with me, all bitterness and snide remarks. I'd like to think I held my own, but I'd be deluding myself. In reality, he was hammering at me with every one of my insecurities and I was desperately trying to hold on to my sanity.

In the end, though, it came down to this: I hadn't made my choice yet. And, to him, my indecision was all the information he required.

"CHOOSE NOW OR I WILL CHOOSE FOR YOU!"

Have you ever jumped into a pool, knowing it was going to be cold? You go to the edge of the diving board, peer down, maybe bounce a few times… but there comes this moment when you have to actually decide if you're going to go for it. Maybe you count to three, thinking that'll make it easier, but in the end…

"FINE! Fine… I chose you. You win. What happens now?"

That was it. I was totally and completely zapped of energy. I slumped on the ground; all I wanted was to go curl up in my bed and take a nap.

So the metallic groaning that followed was kinda like an airhorn in my ears, not-so-subtly reminding me that, whatever was happening, it wasn't over yet.

Raoul and Mr. Khan had somehow tripped a mechanism that would 'clean out' the chamber where they were being held. They were about to die a most—if Erik's explanation can be trusted—horrific and gruesome death.

And Erik was just going to let them.

I tried to build myself up for another battle, but I couldn't do it. It all felt so very… hopeless. And daunting. I'd beg and shout and cry and he _may _or _may not_ care to listen and the very idea made me want to scream, "_What's the use?" _

But, I owed it to them to at least _try_.

"I _chose _you. Doesn't that count for anything? It's already done. Please just do this for me."

A pathetic attempt. And yet… it worked. He shut down the decontamination cycle. Somehow… all of this madness had come to an end.

-0-0-0-

The men looked… horrible… when Erik brought them out. Not burned in the direct sense, like the time I accidentally put my hand on the stove, but rather a full-body sunburn on steroids. Their faces were swollen, brownish red on the surface with oozing cracks here and there. I noticed that Mr. Khan had blisters on his hands—I bet he got them touching the hot mirrors while looking for an escape.

This sounds so terribly jaded, and I beg you not to think less of me: I _would _have been sick at what I was looking at. _Should_ have. But I'd seen Erik's mind—experienced his memories—and it was all so _real_ that, well, let's just say my concept of human suffering was broadened.

As it was, I think it turned out to be a good thing, in a way. Instead of freaking out or something, I somehow managed to keep a cool head. Those men needed my help and, regardless of the reason, they could count on me to give it.

I quietly tended to them each, trying to be as gentle as possible (and, by the way, Erik's rough treatment of Raoul did NOT escape my notice, though I refrained from mentioning it) and be mindful not to cause more damage in my effort to be helpful.

So, I guess… it's one of those things where you're just grateful to have a particular ability but try really hard not to think about where it came from.

-0-0-0-

Erik was gracious enough to give me time to say goodbye to Raoul. It must have been hard on him, even then I wasn't selfish enough not to see that. He was… trying. Upset as I was about this whole situation (it was _his _fault, after all) I could admit that much at least.

For the longest time, I just sat with him, stroking his hair and murmuring nonsense-words, just waiting for him to wake up. Eventually he started to cough, small amounts of water spraying from his mouth. After a moment, I sensed him start to sit up. I gently pressed him back down.

"C-Christine?" Raoul asked, wincing a little.

"Shh… It's okay. Lie still, we're going to get you out of here."

"You're coming too, right? Is it over? How did you get rid of…"

"I didn't," I hastily responded. No use letting him dwell on false hopes. "Don't be mad. I… agreed to stay with him."

"No!" he started, before succumbing to a coughing fit. I felt terrible for him; that must feel excruciating.

"Hush, Raoul. You're just going to hurt yourself more. Look… I know you're upset, but this was the only way. You were going to _die_. How could I let that happen?"

He weakly reached up his hand and wiped away tears I didn't even know I had been shedding.

"Hey, don't talk like that. We can… we can find a way. I love you, Christine, there _has _to be away. I promise to protect you. Just… just help me up."

I'll be honest. The _first _thing I wondered then was how on earth he was planning to protect me against a genius with no value for human life and countless generations worth of knowledge under his belt… when he needed help just to stand up. But… Raoul didn't need any more blows to his ego.

I didn't help him up; just held his hand. He kissed my palm and I tried to hold my tears at bay. Everywhere he touched me felt painfully cold. It was all so unfair! I couldn't even kiss my boyfriend goodbye without being reminded of _him_. Could we not just have _one_ moment together?

I felt suddenly warm and comforted… which depressed me. They were false feelings—that stupid sense of _home_ that meant Erik was near.

"He's coming, Raoul. He will take you up to the surface. Just… stay safe, okay? Don't worry about me. I'll be okay as long as I know you're safe."

"Christine, stop this! There's still time! Help me stand up; we can get out of here together before he comes back. We can leave the country… we could—"

"There is nowhere you could go that I would not find her," Erik interrupted, coldly.

I worried for Raoul. I'd fervently wished Erik hadn't heard that last part of our conversation. The injustice of it all made me cringe. "Erik… I…"

"Do not fear, my wife. Your Erik knows you are faithful to him. It seems the boy is the one who needed to be reminded."

"You said you wouldn't hurt him!"

"And I shall not. But I will take him from this place and _he_ will remember that it is only by my will that breath remains in his body."

So they left. And I finely let myself cry freely.

-0-0-0-

"My wife, you are tired. Perhaps you should sleep."

_My wife_. I shuddered. He was right… I was his _wife _now. As in 'till death do us part'… but Erik couldn't die and I'd promised not to harm myself—so we were looking at a Very Long Time.

I had kind of an 'internal sigh' moment. I was his wife. Raoul was forever lost to me, and I was Erik's wife.

I touched his hand… because it made me feel better… and answered, "As you wish, Erik."

Our physical contact—false security—made it possible for me to not collapse into a puddle of tears, but my broken heart remained. Kind of compromised into this… deadened depression.

As I turned to go, he grabbed my hands again.

He… he said the words I'd been to afraid even to pray for. He told me he'd changed his mind, that I could go back with Raoul. That… he wouldn't force me. He wanted me to have a choice.

I felt… indescribable. Like, have you ever been so, so worried about a test in school… you lose sleep the night before and can't stomach breakfast that morning… and then you get there and there's a note on the door saying that class is canceled? It was like that. Complete deflation of tense energy, with a touch of wariness of what was to come.

And then…

He asked me for a kiss. Explained that he had a theory that if I kissed him, I could give him his soul back. He asked me to kiss him because he wanted to die. What cold-hearted individual _wouldn't _be moved by a pitiful plea like that?

But… I could end this for real. If it worked… he would be out of my life forever. I could go back and be with Raoul and just pretend this was all a bad dream. I could go back to college, take up singing again, get a new job. I could have a _life_.

And he could have his soul back. Isn't that all he wanted for centuries. I'd really be doing him a favor. He _wanted _to die.

By all accounts, I could see how this was the right choice for _both_ of us. Not to mention Raoul and Nadir and all the countless innocents that could be harmed in the future.

All I had to do was think of his soul and kiss him. Could it really be that easy?

But it wasn't easy… not at all.

I didn't want him to die. But—I realized in sudden fascination—I didn't want him to part from me, either. His request… that I should leave him, go with Raoul, and let him die alone. It made me sick. Devastated in a way nothing had before.

I followed Erik's instructions. I concentrated hard and kissed him.

But I couldn't give him back his soul…

So I gave him part of mine.


	33. Chapter 33

**Christine**

I woke up around the same time Erik did, I suspect, because he was groaning and attempting to pick himself off the floor. When he saw me, though, he snapped to attention and I found him at my side almost instantly.

I blinked, trying to adjust to the brightness of his eyes. I felt… well… you know that feeling you have when you're recuperating from a migraine? When the acute part of the headache is over but you're still tender and light-sensitive and a little bit nauseated?

"You fool! Do you know what you have done?" he hissed. His eyes were flashing and his words were harsh, but his hands were running through my hair as if he thought I'd break. The result was convoluted—I wasn't sure how to interpret it. His emotions were likewise confused, so there was no help there.

His mask was off… but I almost didn't notice. His face didn't bother me. Not in the slightest—and I mean that in all honesty. It was odd; only a few hours ago it _did_ bother me. I mean, I wasn't exactly frightened (you can thank Hollywood for that) but I do admit I was disgusted. Don't think badly of me for saying that, you'd _have _to agree if you saw what I saw. It's just… words can't do it justice, so don't judge me.

But anyway… _now_ it was different. It was a total non-issue. Take a good look at your arm—maybe there's hair on it, or freckles, or a bruise you don't remember getting. But, it doesn't bother you all that much, right? In fact, until I mentioned it, you probably weren't even thinking about it.

Because… it's just _there_. Like that's the way it is and it's a part of you and that's the end of it.

That's how I thought—still think—about Erik's face. It's just a part of me that _is_.

And that's just the thing, isn't it? Erik felt like a part of me. An extension of myself… which I suppose sounds like something a lovesick teenager or bad romance novel would say… but there is truly no better explanation. We share a soul.

"I couldn't let you go. I'm sorr—no, I'm not sorry. Just… please don't be mad."

He continued combing through my hair with his fingers. "Does this mean you love me?" he asked, softly.

"I think you know the answer to that," I responded. I couldn't lie to him, even if I _could _get away with it. It wasn't right after everything. I didn't want to give him false hope.

His hand dropped and he lowered his head so that his forehead rested on my collar-bone. I rested a hand on the back of his neck.

"There is… no going back from this," he murmured. "What you have done… it is permanent. I can feel it; so can you."

"How _do_ you feel?"

"Settled. Complete. A missing piece sliding into place and becoming comfortable. I feel as if I can breathe for the first time since I was a boy."

"Yeah. That… sounds about right." I felt… better. Even though I wasn't aware I _needed_ to feel better. Like there was a release of pressure that I didn't know I was carrying around. Now I had an odd sensation, like when your ears equalize. Like everything had just… shuffled into place.

"Why did you do it? You could have… fixed this… another way. Yet you chose to bind yourself to me. You understand that is what you have done, yes?"

"Yes, I got that much. I just… I couldn't let you die, Erik. I know we weren't sure that's what would happen… but I couldn't take the risk."

"But _why_? You had no duty to me. Until recently, you did not even know of my existence."

"You know… I'm not so sure that's true. I mean, it's not like I had a name or a face to actively search for… but… well… I _was _carrying a part of you around for my entire life."

"You were made for me."

I let out a nervous laugh. "Haha… that's going a little far."

"It is not. You are my angel; the one I saw as a child. The reason I followed the Erlking into the forest—no, do not misunderstand; I misspoke—it is not you who did this to me, of course not. But it is _you_ that I have been searching for all these years. You held my soul, and now I hold yours. You _are mine_, Christine. Always have been, always—"

He paused. Tilted his head a bit as if listening.

"I am frightening you. Forgive me; that was not my intent. You have to understand, this is as overwhelming for me as it is for you."

"It's been a long day." I said after a time, not really knowing how else to respond.

"You should rest."

"So should you."

"Perhaps you are correct. We… we must speak more of this…"

"Yeah, I know," I interrupted. "But, let's sleep first. There'll be plenty of time later. I mean… forever's a long time, right?"

Erik's snort told me that my lame joke was at least mildly appreciated. He shook his head, rolling away from me and reaching for his mask. I let him; I think we both needed the barrier. We were already too close as it was.

He offered me a hand, but I shook it off with a quick "s'okay" and got up on my own. I felt his hurt as nothing more than a quick flash before it was gone. I like to think that meant he understood. It was all a little much to take in.

When we were both standing, we looked at each other awkwardly for half a second before Erik nodded stiffly and gave me a quick pat on the elbow.

"Well. Ah… off to bed with you, then. Goodnight, angel. We will… ah… talk in the morning, yes?"

"Sure. G'night."

I turned to leave, but no sooner had I shut the door behind me that an icy pain shot through me. Like someone was jabbing frozen nails into me. I doubled over. In the other room I heard a surprised cry. _Erik must be feeling it too._

I tried to head back—maybe Erik could figure out what was wrong and fix it—but the pain intensified and I found that I couldn't do much more than curl up in a ball.

My vision was spotty, it was getting hard to concentrate. I started crying… 'cause, you know, it _really _hurt… and that really just made things worse.

Just as I was at that 'am I going to throw up or pass out?' moment, I felt cool hands on my face. Erik. I wrapped my arms around him like a little monkey and forced deep breaths as the pain faded. And then was replaced with… euphoria.

"How do you feel?" Erik panted.

"Um… kinda funny. Punch drunk, almost, all disorientated and giddy."

"Yes," he agreed. "Perhaps, Christine… a little experiment?" I nodded, and he slowly released me.

We stood and faced each other. Slowly, Erik began to step away from me, and I from him. It was… okay… for a few steps but eventually the pain began to build. An ache in the bones, then the cold, the sting. We stayed in the same hallway—he didn't go so far as to shut a door between us—but even still the distance became too much.

"S-stop!" I pleaded. Within a second he was by my side again. Folded me in his arms so I could put my head on his chest. _This is so screwed up._ "Well, guess that answers that, then," I sighed.

"Mmhm," he agreed. "I must admit, I am unsure about how to proceed."

I knew what he was getting at. He wasn't about to invite himself into my room… but, he slept in a coffin, you know? That's not really a great alternative. I mean… there were chairs and stuff in the library, where we had been before, but that's not too conducive to sleeping and we were both awfully tired…

I took pity on him and, with a sigh, led him by the hand to my bedroom.

-0-0-0-0-

After a few hours, I awoke. Erik was still sleeping next to me. The guy must have been really wiped; I've never actually known him to let his guard down like that.

For about thirty seconds, I let the childish corner of my brain run. It stomped it's proverbial foot and shouted about how profoundly _unfair_ this whole thing was. That's all I allowed, though, and I reigned in the feelings before they turned into a pity-party.

It was stupid to dwell those things. Nothing about this had been fair from the get go. Life hadn't been fair to Erik, either, and I'd been selfish to blame him. _And this_, I thought as I felt his easy breathing against my shoulder, _had been _my_ choice. _I had no right to complain about it.

It was a weird feeling, this bond. Before, Erik's soul had been calling to him. Like I was pushing as he was pulling. But now our souls… called to each other, kind of. Like we were both pulling toward the other. Everything I felt was more intense, in a not-super-comfortable sort of way.

And of course it begged the questions that we've asked ourselves like thirty thousand times now: where do we go from here?

"You're contemplating," Erik murmured sleepily. "What troubles you?"

"Are you resentful?" I asked.

He sat up, startled. "What do you mean by that?"

"This… bond… of ours. You didn't choose this."

"Neither of us did. Although I suppose, in a manner of speaking… if I had never walked into the woods all those years ago. But, I suppose my biggest regret is that _you _were forced into it, as well. If anyone has the right to be resentful, it should be you."

"No… that's not exactly what I meant. I mean… _this _part…" I gestured between the two of us. "I had an opportunity to destroy this connection of ours and I didn't do it. I even took the choice away from you. I did all the things that I used to resent _you _over… and now we have to live with it for who knows how long. Tell me you're at least a _little _angry."

With a sigh, Erik linked our fingers together. "I honestly never expected to live long enough to feel _anything _again. All things considered, even resentment would be a welcome feeling, as it more than I deserve. Though, I do not feel resentful. How could I? Christine, you have taken nothing from me. You have allowed my life, and given me an opportunity."

"Opportunity for what?"

"To make you love me, of course."


	34. Chapter 34

**Christine**

We spent the next few hours testing the limits of our bond—trying to see just how far apart we could stand to be, and for how long.

It was absolutely necessary, understand, for practicality's sake. You just can't be with someone every second of every day. I was _not _about to go to the restroom with Erik two feet away, just to name an example. I steadfastly refused to eat or drink anything until _that _particular issue was resolved. Erik didn't comment—I suspect he was doing the same.

We eventually worked up a tolerance, of sorts. We could be apart for short spurts. For a cost, though. You see, the bond really is like a living thing, like a needy toddler that must constantly be reassured. Closeness was what it required. Intimacy. The further away, the longer we strayed, the closer we needed to be to placate the bond later. Like we were reminding it—don't worry, we'll be back, we respect your presence.

Boy that sounds stupid. Really, really stupid.

Anyway, point is that Erik and I _could_ separate, for a time, as long as we returned to each other. But, at that point, mere proximity wasn't enough. The bond required touching, cuddling, shared secrets and the like. You know… the exact things I wasn't comfortable doing with Erik.

Worse yet, I knew that Erik—poor guy—was probably making more out of this than he should. Every time I touched our foreheads together, or lifted my chin so he could run the back of his hand down my neck, I felt his heart race. Felt a surge of happiness and masculine energy. It made me feel dreadful. Guilty, even though there was nothing I could do about it. So I stayed, complied just long enough for the bond to be satisfied and the ache to stop, and then pulled away, putting an inch or two of space between us.

On Erik's side of things… well, Erik was ecstatic, as far as I could tell. He carried a sense of freedom… a relaxed air about him that I'd never seen before. He seemed almost boyish. Gone was the controlling man I knew, replaced by a guy who smiled and let things roll off his shoulders. Even when I shrugged his arms off me or reminded him of my non-feelings… he didn't get mad. Mildly hurt, yes, but he didn't pout about it. Just let it slide off his back like it was no big deal. It was weird.

I think I get it, though. He's not afraid anymore. At least not afraid of losing me. He doesn't have to worry about keeping me locked up or threatening me or giving ultimatums. I wasn't going anywhere. Couldn't. I mean, I didn't hate him, but even if I did… we were kind of stuck together. Yeah, he wanted me to return his feelings. Desperately want it. But there wasn't that urgency that I had to love him _now, now, now._ He definitely had time on his side.

_Time_…

Time was on _his_ side. I don't know about mine. There was this whole feeling of inevitability about our relationship. The same feeling that had Erik humming with excited anticipation had me feeling sick to my stomach. Think about it: if you're stuck with someone—always in each other's company, talking, touching, sharing every aspect of life—you're eventually going to develop _some _sort of feelings. That is to say, you'd either fall in love or want to kill each other. You can't stay indifferent to a man who sleeps in your arms every night. Not for long, anyway.

So why couldn't I give in? Why couldn't I just _make_ myself love him? The bond gave me a buzz of encouragement at the mentioning. Erik looked over at me when I thought about it… he must sense the feeling; I wonder if he knows the thoughts that instigate it.

But, despite all the pressing of the bond and Erik himself, despite the inevitability pressing on my heart… I couldn't do it. Knowing that I might love somebody someday is different than loving them _now_. I still had the _choice_, right? Besides, wasn't there the equal possibility that I'd want to strangle him in the near future?

But, as I watched him do silly mundane things like shaving and tying his shoes… I started to doubt that. He didn't irritate me. He wasn't like a roommate that you can't get rid of, if that's what you're thinking. He was more like an extension of myself. Erik didn't annoy me any more than my own mind.

So, yeah. I could see myself loving Erik someday. Not in that 'passionate romance, do it in every room of the house' way; maybe in that 'been married sixty years, finishing each other's sentences' kind of way. Yeesh… I hope we don't start to _look _like each other.

But, even if I gave in… it wouldn't be _real_ love. That was the biggest hang-up I was facing. It would just be the bond… or the shared circumstances. It would be magic forcing my love, not the real thing.

"What is bothering you, Christine?"

"Nothing… just a headache."

"You are lying to me, angel, I can tell."

"How… why do you think you love me?"

"Angel! How can you ask that? I _know _I love you. I have always loved you."

"But that's just it. I mean… _always_? How is that possible? It's not. What you're feeling… it's not _real_. It's just this magic. It was just your soul sensing it's other half… and it spurned this obsession. But it wasn't an obsession with _me_. But it's just been so long that you don't know the difference. I mean… you don't love me, Erik. You think you do, but you don't."

I cringed slightly, waiting for the inevitable explosion. To my surprise, though, Erik laughed. He wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me down to sit beside him. I squirmed, because his chair was _not _big enough for the both of us without me half-sitting on his lap and I was worried about what he might read into _that_.

"Why do you suppose that matters? Who are you to tell me what is real and what is not? Are you so sure yourself?"

"It's your soul you're feeling. That's what you're attracted to. See? Has nothing really to do with me, at all! You're responding to… it's just… it's artificial, that's what. Your whole life you've been under the influence of this… magic. The bond that connects us."

He laughed again, and buried his non-nose in my hair. I wasn't sure what to do with this new-Erik. His laugh was musical, charming. Not at all maniacal. He didn't scare me. What was I supposed to make of an Erik who didn't scare me?

"Christine, my silly angel, why are you so distraught over inconsequential things? You love strawberry ice cream and classical music because your father raised you on it. Does that make it any less real? Does your fondness for those things suddenly feel like a cheat because, had you been born in China or Egypt, you might feel differently?"

"That's hardly the point."

"That is _precisely _the point. I love you, Christine, and whatever series of events and revelations led me to this state are irrelevant, because they are simply a part of life to me. I think if you were to think of it that way, rather than fixating on the ever-broadening lines of 'what-ifs', you would feel much better. Wouldn't you _like _to feel much better, Christine? Why torture yourself, this way? Erik could make you feel better. Erik could do a great many things, if Christine would only love him."

I wriggled out of his grasp and stood up. "See? It's when you do stuff like _that_. That 'Erik, this' and 'Erik, that' nonsense that just… totally freaks me out. Who talks about themselves that way? Do you have any idea how crazy you sound? How am I supposed to live the rest of my life with someone who does that? Not to mention all the _truly _bad stuff that I don't even want to _think_ about. How can you honestly expect me to fall in love with you?"

As soon as I said it, I gasped. If there was ever a time I needed an 'undo' function for life, it was right there. I felt like the worst person ever. I didn't mean it… no, that's not right… the thought had been hovering in my brain for a while now. But I didn't mean to sayit _out loud._

Erik didn't rail at me like I thought he would. And he didn't cry, even though I felt his emotion like a shot in the chest. He sighed and hung his head, looking for all the world like a normal man who had been hurt deeply.

Suddenly I wanted to run. Perhaps more than I had the times he _did _fly off the handle with me. I didn't want to be anywhere near this situation I'd caused with my thoughtlessness. But the bond was gripping at my throat like a panicky child and I knew that I _couldn't _leave if I wanted to. Erik must have known it, because he moved from his chair to a nearby loveseat, extending his arm in a silent invitation for me to sit beside him.

So, there we sat… awkward and silent. Because what does one say in such an instance? In another life, maybe he would have wept and begged me not to leave, and I would have wept and backpedaled and begged him not to be angry, but we were beyond that now. There were no words to be said and no apologies to force because, in the end, none of it would make any difference.

After a long stretch of silence, I asked, "Do you think I'll live forever… like you?"

I don't know if he was grateful or confused by the change of subject, but he went with it. "I cannot be certain," he admitted. "The most indisputable test is one I would rather not administer. For that matter, my own longevity is also in question. Circumstances have most certainly… changed… for the both of us."

I hummed in agreement. His arm, which had been stretched across the backrest of the couch, came to rest gently around my shoulders. I wonder if it was his way of extending an olive branch—telling me he forgave me, or at least would like to move on. I leaned into him. Suddenly our silence was a lot less awkward.

"Erik… I saw in your mind before… we… _before._ I saw your memory of when the Erlking tried to suck out your soul…"

His hand tightened on my shoulder. "I would rather not speak of that, if it is all the same to you."

"I just… it left a void…"

"_Christine_, please!"

"But I saw him replace it with something… a thick smoke, almost goopy. What was it?"

He sighed. I sort of felt bad bringing up old wounds, but there was something I had to know. "It was… the Erlking's _essence._ A substance compiled of unrefined evil."

I kind of had a hunch, based on what I'd seen, but it was still horrifying to hear Erik speak the words. "Oh Erik! I'm so sorry! How did you live like that? How did you deal with it all these years… having that inside you?"

"You have seen memories of those years," he snapped, "Shared my dreams. You tell me—how do you _think _I dealt with it?"

"You hurt a lot of people," I murmured, feeling more sad than judgmental.

"I did," he admitted.

"Do you regret it?" I don't know why I had to ask that. Stupid, right? I didn't even really want to know the answer.

"I do not. Forgive me, Christine, but I do not. I enjoyed it. The pain, the killing, I took pleasure in destruction."

"And now? I mean, you have two halves of a soul now… so what happened to all the evil goop?"

"It is… still there, in a way. But concentrated, pressed down. Relegated to remote corners of my consciousness." He paused, as if examining his own mind. It gave me a weird mental image of someone prodding a sore tooth to see if it still aches.

"Its power is diminished," he continued, after a time. "I feel as if I _could _still harm others… but I no longer feel _compelled _to, if that makes any sense. Christine… I am not a safe man. But, thanks to you, I believe I have begun to knit together fragments of my sanity. My angel. You have saved me in more ways than I can express."

No pressure, though. And, boy, if that didn't make me uncomfortable. For that matter, so did the adoring way he was looking at me. Though, to be fair, I guess I brought it on myself by forcing this unpleasant line of conversation.

"Do you wanna do something? Sing, maybe?"

"Yes. Yes, music would be lovely. I think I would like that very much."

-0-0-0-0-

Erik played at the piano long after I'd grown too tired to sing. I listened to him, for a while, but then ended up just nodding off in a chair.

I awoke to the odd, childlike feeling of being gathered up in someone's arms.

"S'okay," I murmured. "I can walk."

But he held me tighter and told me that he didn't mind. Before I knew it, Erik tucked me into bed and climbed in beside me, clutching at me like a favorite teddy bear.

Just as I was on the verge of sleep once more, I heard a very soft murmur.

"Erik is sorry."

"Excuse me?" I asked, wondering if I'd imagined it.

He cleared his throat and softly elaborated, "I am sorry I am not a better man for you, angel. I am sorry I am not a man who can be loved."

I kissed the palm of the hand closest to me and snuggled deeper into him, because I couldn't begin to know what I could say that would be sufficient. How terribly inadequate. I wished _I _was a better person, too.


	35. Chapter 35

**Christine**

I woke up to an urgent shaking of my shoulder.

"Christine, angel, you must wake now. Quickly."

Don't you hate being startled awake? You're body's all shaky and heavy while your brain is going a hundred miles a minute. Like when a fire alarm goes off in the middle of the night. Ugh. Hate it.

Anyway, I actually _jumped _straight out of bed and started putting on clothes while I panted, "What? What is it?"

Erik was watching me with this mixture of amusement and appreciation. I'm sure he expected to have to convince me to get out of bed, and my instant-panic threw him off. Whatever. At least I don't strangle people when I'm startled, unlike _some people_ I know.

Luckily, he wasn't messing around, and answered quickly. "One of my alarms has been activated. Our home will be invaded shortly. I apologize for my inattention; I fear we have lingered too long in this place."

"Wait… what? How long have we been here?"

He donned his gloves and mask and began throwing together a small pack of necessities. "About three days, more or less," he answered without pause. "Long enough for Nadir to have regained consciousness and inform the authorities. No doubt they wasted no time hunting us down, especially knowing that I may still be holding hostages."

"_Hostages_? Like… with an 's'? What do—" I let out a string of expletives that don't merit writing down. Erik barked out a laugh before (wisely) stifling it. With horror, it dawned me: I had forgotten _all about _Raoul.

I had forgotten him.

Almost three days and I hadn't even thought of him once. _He could be dead_, and I'd just been skipping around, getting to know my new bond-mate, happy as a clam… totally indifferent to his suffering in whatever hell Erik had left him.

I loved him… at least I thought I did… and I abandoned him when he needed me most.

"Oh, Raoul," I sobbed. "How could I have forgotten?" I turned to Erik. "How could _you _have forgotten? You were supposed to let him go!"

He shrugged and took hold of my elbow. "I had more interesting things on my mind. Come along, Christine, there will be time to mourn your lover later."

"Mourn? He's dead? Of course he is… oh, how could I be so stupid…"

"Stop sniveling," he snapped, dragging me from the room and down the hall. "The boy is not dead. At least, not unless he has some medical condition I was not aware of. I know better than anyone how much a healthy male can withstand."

"Of course you would know, you murderer! How dare you even _think_—"

Was I being too harsh? That was kind of a hot-button for Erik; I suppose it wasn't very nice to bring it up. But it didn't _feel_ uncalled for at the time. The fact that he was referencing his extensive knowledge of torture to _reassure _me was… reprehensible.

_Are you really angry with him… or yourself? Erik is what he is. You knew that. But _you_ claimed to _love _Raoul._

Erik cut me off my tirade. He restrained both my hands with one of his and backed me into the wall until his body was flush against mine. He leaned close and began to whisper in my ear.

"You are so quick to judge Erik. Do you think that immortality equals invincibility? I am sorry to disappoint you, Christine. It means _death_. Again and again. To reach the point where your body resigns itself, to feel your organs shutting down one by one until you shut your eyes and breathe what was meant to be your last… only for your heart to begin beating again and the process beginning anew. It never occurred to you, innocent little Christine, that Erik knows from… _personal experience._ So, when I tell you that the idiot whelp lives yet… you may believe that I speak the truth."

I cried through his tirade. The horror of his words drew out a new thread of compassion toward him. My poor Erik. A few tendrils of the scarred curse words were visible on his neck, just above the edge of his collar. Yes, he'd been a bad man… but he himself was tortured. Why was it so easy to remember one but not the other? It's like I _wanted _to hate him.

He nuzzled my cheek ever so briefly before drawing back and releasing my hands. "Besides," he announced cheerfully, wiping my face with a handkerchief like a parent would to a sick child, "Any rescuers would have passed through his chamber before reaching ours. Considering they are not yet beating down our door, it stands to reason that they stopped to attend to the young man, first."

He tidied up the stray locks of hair that had fallen into my face and retied my ponytail. "There now, all better?" I nodded, still sniffling. "That's a good girl. Come along now, no time to waste."

As if nothing had happened, he slung the pack over his shoulder and tugged me out by the hand.

-0-0-0-

Erik must have had to make a lot of quick exits in his life, because I couldn't help but notice that he had a very methodical way of going about it. It's like when you leave your house for the day and check to make sure all your lights are off and doors are locked. He just went from room to room, only instead of turning off lights, he was just flat out destroying things. He took candles and set all the drapes and tablecloths on fire and, while waiting for them to catch, he waved his hand over the electrical outlets and caused them to explode. When he had finished, he stood by the door and surveyed his work for a moment before taking my hand and leading me to the next room.

Erik paused slightly in his music room. Before completely destroying the room, he rifled through some papers and selected a few drawings and compositions, including a leather-bound book, which he stroked reverently before handing over to me. I kinda felt weird, holding it. The book itself was ancient looking, but some of the pages looked recent. There was a gold-embossed title on the cover, but I didn't know the language.

"_Don Juan Triumphant,_" Erik translated. "My… magnum opus, if you will. I would prefer not to leave it behind."

I looked behind him at the mounds of music and sketches. "What about all that?" I asked. "You worked hard on it!"

Erik waved his hand dismissively. "Trivial. Leave it. I have all I need." He squeezed my hand… you know… as if I _hadn't _caught his hidden meaning.

Did I mention he destroyed the room when we left? Not like the others—he didn't set anything on fire—he just snapped his fingers and everything… disintegrated. Not a thing left.

"Whoa! What _was _that?"

Erik shrugged. "My home is about to be invaded. Better my music is destroyed rather than confiscated by those tone-deaf rubes and condemned to rot in some evidence locker."

"Why don't you do that to all the rooms, if it's really that easy?"

"Hmm?" Erik asked, distractedly, exploding the kitchen fixtures so that water started spraying from the sink like an open fire-hydrant. At last, he answered, "I do it for Khan's sake. How would it look if the authorities came storming down here to find absolutely nothing? They will assume he is unstable, lying. Possibly even blame him for your boy's injuries. No… that would not do. He and I have an unspoken agreement in times such as this. I leave enough evidence to maintain his credibility, though nothing _personally_ damning. In return, he leaves me a means of escape."

"Well that's… nice… of you."

"A necessity, really. Many decades ago, Aasim Khan led a raid on my place of dwelling—I had caused no small amount of trouble when I dispatched several members of political importance." I shuddered at the casual way he referenced the lives he had taken. He noticed, and paused. "You must understand, Christine, that it was a very dark time for me." I nodded, because I knew all that… and there was no undoing the past, at any rate.

He continued, "Anyway, Khan believed me to have finally reached a point of depravity that necessitated intervention. His claims reached the ears of those beyond simple local authorities and, in short order, an entire company of the royal military came storming down my door. They forced their way in to the house I had been staying in, only to find a place that, for all appearances, was an ordinary house. One that had been vacant for some time. Khan's claims of trap doors and torture chambers were declared false from lack of proof."

"Oh my! What happened?"

"He was imprisoned for a short time. When I heard of it, I convinced a judge I knew to intervene and arrange his release, but…"

"But _what_?" I pleaded, morbid curiosity getting the better of me.

"I heard nothing of him for some time. To be honest, I had thought myself to be rid of the Khan family's meddling altogether. However, years later I discovered his nephew Reza—they, ah, recycle family names often, if you had not noticed—caught in one of my traps. We conversed over a pot of tea and I learned that Aasim had taken his family, in shame, and left the country. They carved out a new life somewhere in France… though he was never quite the _same_ after that. Reza spoke of his uncle as if he was… unstable… prone to ranting and changes of mood. His wife left him, and eventually his children. Reza stayed by his side until he insisted that the young man leave, seek me out, and make sure I kept out of trouble."

"That's awful!"

Erik hummed noncommittally, but I knew better. His emotions were always turbulent when he spoke of the Khan family. I think he regretted all the harm he'd caused them. I can't help but wonder why, after all these years, they haven't just washed their hands of him. Surely they'd repaid whatever debt their ancestor felt he owed him.

At some point, during my reflection, Erik must have finished his destruction of the house, because he tugged my arm rather insistently.

"Come along, my dear. We must not dawdle. I would rather not have the ceiling cave in over our heads."

He led me to a ladder that ended near a trap door in the ceiling. "There is a locking mechanism at the top. I shall go up first and you follow."

I waited for him to give me the signal to follow him, but he never did. He paused, instead, by the latch and then ran his fingers over the door.

"Back up, Christine," he urged. "This passage is blocked. I can hear footsteps over the door."

"What are we going to do?" I worried… on the verge of panic.

He laughed at me. Like honestly laughed. Like I was a small child asking stupid, small-child questions. "Oh we _would _be in trouble, if Erik's only way into his house was a trap door in the ceiling."

"Yeah, well, you implied the door we used to get down here was about to be swarmed with police officers."

"It is… but…" Somewhat exasperated, he said, "Christine, why do you have so little faith in Erik?"

When I stammered awkwardly, he just sighed and, would you believe it, _rolled his eyes_. "If you would follow me, Oh Doubting One, you will find a perfectly usable door down the stairs at the end of the corridor."

Only… that door wasn't usable.

Neither was the next one.

Or the next.

In the most even voice I could manage, I reminded Erik that he did, in fact, set most of the cellar on fire. And that fires tended to grow… um… exponentially.

Erik remained calm, hushed my nervous comments and did everything possible to assure me that, no it wasn't a big deal, yes there is another exit to try.

Until there wasn't.

We'd climbed higher and higher until we were just below the stage. High enough above the burning cellar that the heat wasn't unbearable but close enough that I could smell the smoke. There was a loading gate for when trucks had to move big instruments or heavy equipment. I grinned; this was the one, I could feel it. I ran towards it, so close I could smell the fresh air.

But I didn't make it five steps before Erik grabbed my arms and yanked me back, restraining me against his chest.

"Erik! What—"

"Shh!"

"Hey!" An unfamiliar voice said. "I think I hear something. You two go check it out and we'll wait out here."

The door cracked open and two armed officers crept in.

Erik took my hand and we ran the other direction, towards the auditorium.

When we'd dropped into the orchestra pit, just out of sight, Erik let me go. I bent over and gripped the stitch forming in my side. I felt the smoke from the flames creeping up on me and I started to cough. "Well?" I panted, "Which way do we try next?"

Erik looked stunned. "There… is none."

"What?"

"Nadir… he… all the exits are guarded. He has left no escape."

"What do you mean? We're _trapped _in here?"

"So it would seem." I was coughing up a storm now. Erik looked unaffected, for the most part, but if I looked closely I could tell that his breathing was shallow and labored.

"I don't want to burn to death down here."

"Hush, child. Let Erik think…"

I did my absolute best to be quiet, to control my coughing… even to suppress the feeling of absolute terror that was probably _screaming_ at Erik through our bond.

"Do you trust me?" he asked, suddenly.

"You know I do!" I cried.

"Then you must crouch down here, in this corner." He shoved me into a little alcove that was, thus far, shielded from the smoke rising from the basement. "Do not move and try not to make a sound. As soon as there is a clear opening, I want you to run. Run as fast as you can and get as far away from this theater as you are able. Then find a safe place and wait for Erik to find you."

"But what about you?"

He laughed lightly. "Do not worry for poor Erik, my precious angel. He has been in far worse situations. I shall always find you."

"What… what are you going to do?"

He laughed again… but it was a little more _unhinged_ sounding than the last. "Let us call it… a performance to bring down the house!"

-0-0-0-

I huddled down in my little hidey-hole and waited for Erik to do whatever it is that lunatics do when they're backed against a wall. I was equal parts terrified and curious. I'd seen him do some pretty crazy stuff, and he looked _way _too excited about his plan.

_Oh please don't let him kill anyone tonight. I don't want to see that…_

My body was aching something fierce. The bond didn't like us being in danger and apart from each other. That's okay… I didn't particular like it either. I just pretended that the painful freezing sensation was just a nice reprieve from the heat of the fire. The stomach turning need to vomit was just something to distract me from the smoke in my lungs.

I looked for Erik. Maybe if I could just _see _him, I'd feel a little better.

That's when I heard it… a terrifying cackle. Like you'd hear in a horror movie but way worse since it was coming from all over.

"Did you hear that?" shouted one of the officers.

Another added, "It's him! I hear him! Where's it coming from?"

I turned my eyes on the closest exit. It was still blocked, but the guards were beginning to look kind of jumpy. They kept shifting around, as if trying to decide whether it was worth it to hold their posts.

"LOOK THERE! UP THERE! I SEE HIM!" someone cried.

From my position, I could just barely make out the silhouette of a man, weaving about the rafters of the auditorium. That could _only_ be Erik. That kind of grace and balance could never be anything less than supernatural.

There was another cackle and I nearly screamed when I heard the sound of a gunshot. Every officer in the vicinity had their weapons pointed at Erik's shadow… and one of the more nervous fellows had already discharged his.

"_Be careful when shooting above your heads, gentlemen," _a thunderous voice said. One more firearm went off and two or three others were actually dropped on the floor as some of the men clapped their hands over their ears. The voice… nearly _amused _in its tone, continued, _"The chandelier is very old and worn. It just might come down upon your heads!"_

No sooner had he said those words, when the gigantic chandelier decorating the top of the auditorium came crashing down. I screamed… but nobody heard me because they were mostly screaming too.

That wasn't all that happened, though. No, the chandelier _did _come crashing to the ground but, half a second later, every window in the building shattered. The flames from the cellar _exploded _up through the vents and almost instantly caught onto the seats and carpets.

The room became this massive shower of fire and glass. I noticed that Erik had disappeared, but it didn't seem to matter… because the men were now less interested in finding him and more interested in getting the heck out of the building that was starting to crumble.

_Finally _my door was cleared. The guards had left and all I could see was this glorious open portal to fresh air and night sky.

I ran. The bond _hurt_. Hurt like crazy. But I ran anyway. Erik said he would find me and I knew he would. He would have to, if he was feeling our separation as keenly as I was.

It became clear to me exactly what Erik must've meant when he told me to 'run as far as I was able'. We could only get so far apart, after all, before the bond started throwing tantrums. So, I did as he asked, I ran until I started to see black spots and then I parked myself in an alleyway to catch my breath. I hoped it was far enough to keep me out of sight. I couldn't go further… it wouldn't do either of us any good if I blacked out.

I did doze a bit, though. All the running and smoke had worn me out. Occasionally I would debate going off to search for Erik, but I opted against it. He said he'd find me. It'd be easier for him if I just stayed put.

-0-0-0-

I was yanked into full awareness when I felt a mask pressed over my mouth and nose. I started to panic and clutch at the hands holding it to me.

"Hush, Christine. It is only oxygen. I raided one of the ambulances." That voice… those hands… they felt so good. I tugged insistently at his gloves. Ireally needed to feel his skin.

Erik hissed. When I removed one of his gloves, some of his skin came with it.

"What happened?" I asked, horrified. I tried to rip off the oxygen mask but Erik pressed it back in place, giving me a stern look.

"I was… singed… on the way out of the theater."

Looking at his charred wrist, I decided that was a big understatement. As I studied him, Erik began to unpack the bag we had brought. _Seriously, how did he manage to keep hold of it this whole time? _I wondered.

He pulled out some chemicals and bandages—more medical supplies he must have stolen from the ambulance—and handed them over to me.

He looked almost sheepish—absurd as it is to say—as he asked, "Would you mind, angel? I would bandage it myself but it is my dominant hand and I fear I might do a sloppy job of it."

"Yes, of course." I took the pair of scissors he handed me and carefully cut away the pieces of cloth where his sleeve had adhered to his wound. Every now and then, I'd look up at him. He never flinched or made a sound or anything. His jaw was clenched but that was the only indication that he was in pain.

_He must be used to pain_, I realized, and my heart broke a little bit.

When I'd patched him up as best I could, he stood and helped me to my feet.

"We must leave the city soon," he declared. Then, slowly, as if it pained him to admit weakness, he added, "But I believe rest would be prudent as well."

I thought about it. A haggard woman in burnt clothes and a masked man couldn't very well go and rent a hotel room somewhere, not with news of the concert hall fire blasting from every news station. "We could go back to my house. Do you think it's secure enough by now… what with all the attention on the fire? I have more medical supplies in our basement too, in our emergency kit."

"That would be suitable."


	36. Chapter 36

**Christine**

That night I slept with my hand on Erik's burnt arm. If that seems like the absolute worst thing to do ever… that's what I thought too… but Erik insisted it felt good. He claimed my touch eased the pain… that it actually felt pleasant. At first I thought the pain meds he'd taken had made him a bit loopy, but when I went to check his bandages in the night, I saw that the burn had already begun to heal itself. Don't get me wrong… it still looked horrible… but it was better than it ought to have been after a few short hours.

It made me wonder if the bond might have benefits to it. So far, we'd been working on how far we could go against it before it started harming us… maybe that was the problem. Maybe we were looking at it all wrong. I wondered if we stopped fighting it, what would happen.

It was that 'inevitability' notion again. Surprisingly, it didn't make me as repulsed as it once did. Although, I suppose that's rather the point.

We slept through the night and most of the next day. We dragged ourselves out of bed sometime in the late afternoon and I started to prepare us a meal while Erik plotted our next move and… brooded.

"Curse that man," he muttered. "He told them _everything_. I should have erased his memory when I had the chance."

I paused. "Wait… what did you say?"

"I said that faithless booby gave away all my secr—"

"No… no… I mean… what did you say about erasing his memory?"

Erik stopped and looked at me like I'd just asked if he remembered to turn the iron off before we left the burning theater. Like he couldn't believe I was bringing this up _now_. "Well, excuse me, Christine… but it was not a priority at the time. Besides, I rather expected to be dead by the time he woke up, so it hardly seemed necessary."

"No, I mean… you can _do _that?"

He blinked. "Of course I can. Modifying someone's memory is no stronger magic than rewiring an alarm system. They work under the same basic principles."

Thoughts started churning around in my brain. _Is it too good to be true? _My head spun; for a moment I thought I might hyperventilate.

"Angel, are you quite alright? You look pale. Why are you breathing so heavily? Do you need to sit down?"

I grasped desperately at Erik's sleeve. "Erik… could you do me one giant favor? It would mean so much to me. Please, if you would just consider… please… could you…"

"I would give you the world, angel, you must know that. But how can I grant your request if you do not tell me what it is?"

"I need you to take me to see Raoul."

He shrugged me off and turned away, refusing to look at me. I felt like an awful intruder. Here he was, trying to hide the depth of his hurt from me, but projecting it so strongly that I couldn't even grant him the privacy to do it.

"Why?" he asked brokenly. "Why is it always _him_? I thought you chose Erik. Is that not what you said? You chose me? Yet your heart still lies with _him_."

"It's not what you think, I swear! It's just that all of this… stuff… that's happened between us… none of it is his fault. Not really. I know him; this wasn't just some grand adventure—it'll haunt him for the rest of his life. But _you_… you could make it all go away. Don't you see? This… _fate _of ours… he didn't have to get swept up in it. It's not his fault. If anything, it was mine. But you could undo all that, couldn't you? Make him forget? Don't you think we owe him that much at least?"

He was quiet for a long time, thinking it over. Finally, he answered, "Erik will grant Christine's request. But then she must do something for Erik."

"Anything!" I swore, and then immediately thought better of it. No good ever came from that word. A little more cautiously, I followed, "What is it?"

"Marry me."

That sort of made me splutter for a moment. I hadn't expected that. "Marry you? _Why_? I mean… our _souls _are bonded. Doesn't that make us… more than married?"

"It is…" he floundered for words; I sensed his nervousness. "It is important to me. I have never cared for the traditions of the human race before. They come and go. I found them petty and beneath me. But, for some reason, this is different. In my heart, you have always belonged to me… I want the world to recognize you as my own. Let no man deny that _you chose me._"

Heaven help me, but those possessive words did something to me. Like he was caught between a longing for control and a childlike need for reassurance. And… I could totally get that. I was in a similar state, emotionally. There was this little-girl part of me that just wanted to be protected and hidden and another part of me that imagined taking Erik into my arms so that I could just… _fix_ him.

We needed each other. Why hadn't I seen that before?

_Because you were in love with Raoul, stupid. Because you're a heartless, selfish, little child who only sees what she wants to see._

Ouch. That wasn't very nice. My inner monologues were supposed to be on _my _side.

"Additionally," Erik continued, because time didn't stop for my brain-rambles, "Surely you have noticed how… close… we have become… ah, _physically_. Or at least in proximity, which you cannot deny. That is to say… ah… Hell, Christine! We have shared a bed! In my day, two people would never _consider_—"

"In your day?" I cut off, amused. "What are you, a time traveler, now? You said yourself traditions come and go. And you've _seen _them! You'd know better than anybody that people do _way _more than us without being married." I don't know why I was arguing. I seriously don't. Maybe I was just being contrary for its own sake. I'm an old fashioned girl, myself. My papa raised me that way. Erik's arguments were sound enough, and the idea of being married made me get this warm, bubbly feeling. But, like an idiot, I kept arguing… just because. Because I didn't _want _to feel the way I was beginning to feel about Erik, so I might as well make it difficult for both of us.

With a defeated sigh, Erik took my hand and placed it on his masked face. His eyes seemed brighter, warmer than usual. "_Just do this for me_," he murmured, shifting my own words back onto me.

I kissed his neck, that strip of exposed skin between his mask and his shirt collar. "I'll marry you. Of course, I'll marry you."

He wrapped his arms around me, then. Not like the tentative light embraces I was used to, a full-out bear hug. From the shudders racking his body, I gathered he must be crying. For a moment, I just patted him awkwardly on the back… before giving in and relaxing into his shoulder, burying my nose in his neck and breathing him in. Even with the scent of smoke lingering on his clothes... Erik smelled like home.

"Erik loves you so very much, Christine." He whispered.

I just squeezed back harder.

-0-0-0-

Raoul's hospital room was nicer than I expected. I'd been in a lot of hospitals, ever since Dad first got sick, and they weren't all that great. Some were better than others, of course, but it was all about terrible food and shared rooms and no privacy. But Raoul was in a private room with curtains that weren't outdated by thirty years and a bed that actually looked super-comfortable.

Erik looked around the place and sneered, no doubt keeping back some snarky comment for my sake. Whatever. _I _was glad for Raoul. After what he'd been through, he deserved the best. And, if his family had the money to give it to him, more power to them.

I slowly crept toward his bed. He had a lot of bandages, and I recognized one of the medications on his IV drip as something that controls infections. I said a prayer that it was a precautionary measure. That was the last thing he needed. He was cleaned up, but somehow that made him look even worse by emphasizing his injuries. The sight of his broken fingernails made my eyes tear up a bit.

While I was watching over him, Erik was abstractly looking over the medical chart on the end of his bed. "It looks worse than it is," he awkwardly reassured me.

"That's… good. That's really good. I'm glad."

I heard a moan and some restless movements. I turned to look for Erik, but he had disappeared.

"C-Christine?" Raoul murmured. "Is that you?" Suddenly, he tried to sit up. "Is that really you? Christine! Are you alright?"

I pressed a hand to his shoulder, as gently as I could. "Shh. Yeah, it's me, Raoul. Don't try to sit up. It's okay."

"How are you here? Is the monster dead? How did you escape?"

My pulse jumped a moment when he called Erik a monster. It shouldn't have. I mean, after what happened to him, Raoul should get to call him whatever he wanted. But the rest of me didn't feel that way. I felt protective, almost angry. That was _my _Erik he was insulting.

I told my stupid brain to shut up and took Raoul's hand, ignoring the needling pain that shot up my arm as a result. I told the stupid bond to shut up, too.

"Yeah… well… all that's sorted out now. Don't you worry."

"Christine, I'm so sorry! I should have—" He paused and looked behind me. One guess who'd decided to make an appearance.

"You!" he gasped. "Christine, run! Get out of here!" The _'I'll protect you'_ was sort of implied in there, but I had no idea how he intended to do that. I would have laughed if that wouldn't have been the Most Inappropriate Thing Ever.

Raoul is a sweet boy. I knew he meant well. And, at one point, I loved him for it. But now… now it didn't seem like enough.

"No, it's okay Raoul. It's just… look I just came to say goodbye."

"Goodbye? You can't possibly mean—GET AWAY FROM HER YOU FREAK!" He shrieked and started scrambling around to find the nurse's call-button. Erik took my shoulder and gently pushed me away from him. As he stepped closer, Raoul's cries changed from my behalf to his own. "B-back off! Don't touch me!"

Erik rolled his eyes and began to sing softly. _"Sleep now… no more nightmares… sleep…" _

Raoul instantly flopped back down on his pillow and relaxed.

Erik continued humming peacefully as he extended his gloved hand toward Raoul. He didn't actually touch him, just sort of let his hand hover over his head. After a few seconds, there seemed to be this glowing, blue mist over Raoul's forehead and temples, though it was so slight I thought it could just as easily have been moonlight or something. But before I had more than a second or two to ponder it, Erik was already drawing back.

"His memories of you have faded, Christine. He remembers his childhood friend. A short time ago, you two accidentally reconnected and shared a beverage, eliciting a brief feeling of nostalgia, but nothing more. You parted ways and have not seen each other since. Several days ago, he was kidnapped by an escaped mental patient and held captive. The details of the experience are dim, as if he had been drugged or unconscious the entire time. He will remember no pain or know the exact causes for his injuries.

"I could not erase the event entirely, you understand, for practical reasons… however he believes it to be a matter of unfortunate coincidence—being in the wrong place at the wrong time when someone mentally unbalanced was looking for a hostage."

"Thank you, Erik," I whispered. "You did a good thing. I can't thank you enough."

He shrugged, as if it were nothing, but I could feel the pleasure coursing through him at my praise. _He really would do anything for me_… I thought to myself.

"It is time, angel. We must leave."

I nodded and took a look out the door. It was mostly empty… except for a nurse, slumped against the wall, snoring loudly, not five feet from the room.

Erik snickered. I smacked him on the arm. "You're terrible," I said.

Something suddenly dawned on me. "Won't someone suspect something? I mean, what about whatever Nadir told the police?"

Erik shrugged. "What is easier to explain on a police report? That a criminally insane man behaved irrationally and died in the process… or that there is some sort of supernatural boogie-man creeping around, impossible to destroy? The evidence was burned. Now they simply have the word of an eccentric janitor who has spent twenty years of his life around lunatics."

I wanted to argue but… it made sense. I couldn't very well expect Erik to go around the town changing records and erasing memories. And, I didn't really want him to. I wanted this chapter in our lives to be _done_. Yes, there would be inconsistencies… but that could be someone else's problem. Let them straighten it out.

Was I becoming more like Erik, not caring about the rest of the world's problems?

I looked back to Raoul, sleeping peacefully in his bed. We had done the right thing with him. He would never have given me up. That sounds so ridiculously vain to say—as if _I'm_ so terribly unforgettable—but there's truth in it. You could tell by the way he tried to pry himself out of his hospital bed to rescue me like some knight in a backless gown. He wouldn't have just shrugged this off like an ordinary break-up.

"We really must go now, Christine."

"Just one more minute," I begged. At Erik's solemn nod, I approached Raoul's bed one last time.

"Goodbye, Raoul," I whispered. "Have a nice life." I bent down to kiss him. _A last kiss goodbye._

Just before I made contact—two inches from his forehead, lips already pursed—I paused. I didn't kiss him. And not because of the bond clawing at my throat or Erik's yellow eyes burning into my back. I didn't kiss him because… I didn't want to.

I didn't _need_ to kiss Raoul. And I didn't want to. Not anymore.

It suddenly occurred to me how much my heart had changed. I _had _forgotten about Raoul for those few days. It had been _easy_. Not because I suddenly didn't love him anymore, but because my priorities had changed. _Everything_ changed down in that cellar. If one of the two of them had to occupy my thoughts, it'd be Erik, no question. We literally _belonged_ to each other now.

I had been wrong to forget about Raoul in Erik's dungeons… but I had done absolutely everything in my power to right that wrong. I wasn't going to go through the rest of my life moping about it or even wondering 'what if?'. I didn't even _care _about the 'what if?' It didn't matter anymore. Raoul was a truly wonderful man, and I wished him the best. But our time together was already finished.

Feelings, romance, circumstances aside… Erik was my priority now. For the rest of my life, it was Erik and I. He _had_ to come first. And, in return, I had someone who valued me above all else.

And, I was okay with that. Like… really, really okay.

I turned around to face Erik and threw my arms around his midsection.

"Christine?" he asked, awkwardly.

I smiled into his shirt. "Come on, big guy. Let's go get hitched."


	37. Chapter 37

**AN: So... apparently whenever I make promises about updates, something tragic happens to my computer (I'm death to electronics). So I'm going to stop doing that. Just know that I AM working on this and I'll get things posted as soon as they're ready. :)**

**-0-0-0-**

**Christine**

I don't know what I expected a wedding with Erik to be like. I hadn't given it a great deal of thought, really. But I can safely say that I never imagined us eloping to Vegas.

Of course… where else can a guy in a mask get married in the middle of the night with no advanced notice and a homeless guy paid to be a witness?

So, yeah, it was practical. Just not very… Erik. Erik was all elegance and passion just _barely _shrouded in calculated restraint. This plan… well… made sense. And Erik is not supposed to make sense.

That's not to say it wasn't interesting. No, _everything_ with Erik is something of an adventure. Right down to the plane flight.

Did you know Erik is a pilot? _ I_ didn't. Then again, it doesn't exactly surprise me. He can do all sorts of things. Which I guess is reasonable, given how smart he is and how much time he's had to learn.

My car was somewhat nondescript (that is, both cheap and popular), so Erik wasn't too bothered about driving it, though he did change the license plate numbers twice—once when we left the house and again when we left the hospital—and abandoned it altogether when we reached the next city.

His nonchalance about the whole thing amazed me, a little bit. I guess because, when people do a lot of sinister things, you expect them to go slinking around the shadows and looking around suspiciously. Not Erik, though. He stands tall and commands attention… unless he doesn't want to be noticed, in which case you never see him at all. Sometimes it's like the rules of reality just… flex to obey him. Even when he was locked up in that cell, dirty and dressed in rags, there was something regal about him.

Now that I was thinking about it, I recalled the many visions and dreams I'd had of his life and realized that I've never seen him bow his neck to _anyone._ Not since he was a child and, even then, not willingly.

Unless _I_ was involved, that is. Then he is almost slave-like in his devotion. I had no doubt he'd kneel before me if I asked him to. That's why I never asked him.

Anyway, Erik parked my car in a rental lot and, with an appraising look around, simply… chose a new one.

He opened passenger side door and ensured that I was secure and comfortable before moving around to his own side. He had only just shut his door when a man came running out of the rental-office.

"HEY!" he cried, "What are you doing? You can't just take that!"

Erik rolled down his window. He coolly chastised the man, "Now that was impolite." The guy's eyes clouded over a little. "I assure you, everything is in order. My, you are scatterbrained today! Have you forgotten so soon? Go back to your office; I am certain you will find all the paperwork you require." Without a nod or any sign of acknowledgement, the man turned on his heel and headed back to the office.

Erik watched him, hawk-like, for a time. As soon as he disappeared from view, Erik started the car (without a key!) and we sped off.

For a while I just stared at Erik questioningly. _Was all this really necessary?_

He shrugged and remarked, lightly, "Your check-engine light was on." As if _that_ was even an _issue_ for him. With an odd glint in his eye, he continued, "Besides… this one is faster."

I almost laughed aloud. Of course Erik wasn't even bothering to acknowledge the fact that he'd just committed a felony. He was just attempting to justify why we needed _this _car. Erik may have the attributes of a mythological being… but sometimes he is just such a _guy._

We sped along the highway for another hour or so before Erik abruptly turned onto a side road that I _swear _I'd never notice before. When I mentioned that to Erik, he merely smiled and shook his head.

"My sweet, oblivious, Christine. You should pay more attention to what is around you." You'd think that would be an admonishment of some kind. _Stop being stupid and unsafe_. But I got the distinct impression that Erik found it endearing.

I think I understood why. He wanted to be needed. He was _convinced _that I needed his protection—whether I'd admit to it or not—and it pleased him anytime anything enforced his conviction that he was right. I could argue until I was blue in the face, but he wanted to believe that I'd simply fall apart without him, and there wasn't a lot I could do to persuade him otherwise. With the bond in place, it's not like I could very well run off and prove it to him.

He stroked my hand and the scowl faded off my face. I guess it really wasn't _that_ important, anyway. We were stuck together, weren't we? If he wanted to believe he was the one thing standing between me and certain death in the big, bad world… what did it matter?

And… as outdated as it seems to admit… I think I like being taken care of. Don't tell him that, though.

We finally came to a stop at a private flight school. It suddenly dawned on me how many planes and helicopters I'd seen over my lifetime, considering we were a few hours away from the nearest major airport. I'd never given it a second thought before… but this makes sense.

Another thought crossed my mind. "Erik… a car was one thing but, you're not just going to run off with airplane, are you?"

"Why not?" he asked. "I own it."

-0-0-0-

As our car came to a halt, a smiling man came out of the building to greet us. One look at Erik, though, and his smile dropped. Actually, he looked downright terrified.

"Hello, Julian," Erik murmured. Erik looked like a cat about to pounce on a mouse—yellow eyes and all. I suspected his teeth might even be bared under his mask.

"E-Erik… I had-hadn't expected you. I thought… I thought…" The poor guy looked like he was going to faint or wet himself or something. I kind of felt bad for him. He obviously knew Erik. But… nobody really knew Erik _fondly_. I wonder what had traumatized him so much.

"You _thought_ that I was out of your life forever, did you not? Well, I assure you, that is not the case. Why, Julian! You are positively _shaking_! What has you so afraid? Have you been naughty?" The man's eyes shifted; he was sweating now. "Did you think I would not find out?" Erik continued, bearing down on him threateningly. "Did you think you could deceive Erik and get away with it?"

The man—Julian, stuttered, "No… no, of course not. I just thought you were gone. It's been so long! I've taken care of your business, just like you said! It even turns a profit! Do you want to see the reports?"

"That will not be necessary. Besides, they will have been doctored, no doubt. No… I am simply in need of an aircraft for the next few days."

He breathed a little better after that, but his muscles were still tense, as if he might run. "Oh… well… most of what we have is either being rented or out for maintenance and repairs. We do have one small plane available… but I've got a lesson in an hour, so…"

"Reschedule," Erik commanded, simply.

"Look, I would—you know I would—but this client wouldn't take too kindly to it. Rich kid, you know, dad's real important…"

Erik clucked his tongue like a disappointed parent. "Julian… I am hurt! Truly! I believed you thought more of me than that. Perhaps it has been too long and you have forgotten what I am capable of." I could see his—Julian's—face turning almost purple.

I don't know why it was even a question. Yeah, I get not wanting to tick off big-shots and their spoiled children… but up against _Erik_? Isn't that a no-brainer? Maybe I'm biased. I've seen him do some crazy-scary stuff.

When he didn't answer after a few seconds, Erik continued with a long suffering sigh, "I think, Julian, that I should like to review those financial records, after all."

"NO!" he cried, and it made me quite curious what the guy had to be hiding. I tentatively reached out and felt Erik's emotions… whatever it was, he didn't seem to terribly upset about it. Just _mildly _annoyed and a little impatient.

Erik cocked his head slightly, as if daring Julian to give him a good reason not to.

"Take it! I'm sure the client won't mind. I'll just… I'll just get her fueled up for you, yeah?"

Erik nodded. "Very well. You do that. We shall be in my office."

"You have the key?" Julian asked, incredulously. "Nobody's been able to get into that room for years!"

Erik didn't respond at all. Just took my hand and led me away. We went down a long corridor and then some stairs and then Erik gestured to a steel door. It looked pretty banged up. Like someone had tried to force it open, tamper with the lock, and eventually used a welding torch on it. Erik rolled his eyes, did some fast and complicated rotations with the locking mechanism and swung the door open wide.

"Not even one of my more complicated locks," he muttered… more exasperated than bragging.

"How did you know that guy was embezzling money?"

He looked at me and blinked a few times. Sometimes I think he forgets that the things that are obvious to _him_ aren't to the rest of us. It's not anyone's fault (I'm _trying_ not to feel stupid, here) he's just had more time to observe people.

"Surely you noticed how agitated he was," he explained. "Since I have done nothing to _him_, it stands to reason that he had done something to _me_. And, with men such as he, finances are usually a fair place to begin. Guesswork and assumptions, really. I believe the expression has something to do with giving a man enough rope to hang himself."

"Huh," I said, unhelpfully. "So… um… this place is yours?"

"In a manner of speaking. I purchased it about twenty-five years ago—Julian was a young man, then, with great passion and little business sense—and turned it around. I helped him manage his debts and allowed him to retain the _public_ image of ownership. In exchange for my services… he became something of an errand-boy to me. I used him to carry out tasks that I found impossible or distasteful for reasons that… I am sure you have ascertained by now."

I wasn't really sure, actually. Did he mean things like grocery shopping or, like… hiding murdered bodies? Because, really, 'impossible or distasteful' could mean a whole spectrum of things in Erik's world.

That would explain why the poor guy was so terrified of him, though. Working closely with or for Erik would have given him a taste of what he was capable of. And, yeah… in his shoes, I wouldn't want to upset Erik, either!

Erik must have considered the discussion closed, because he turned his back to me and began tinkering with something in his desk. There was an audible 'click' and then Erik made a hum of satisfaction as he removed what appeared to be a false bottom in one of the drawers.

From inside, he withdrew a folded envelope, a fat bundle of cash and a tiny bag which he later revealed to contain assorted keys and a few gemstones. He placed them in a pocket inside his jacket and turned back to me.

He was very serious when he spoke to me next. "My accounts were frozen twenty years ago, many of my assets seized. But, I want you to know… it is important that you know, angel, that I _can _take care of you. Will you believe that much, at least? Erik will always take care of you."

I was oddly touched that he brought it up. The sight of money had caused my gut to clench and my stress levels soared. I hadn't given much thought to finances until then… but seeing that bundle brought reality crashing down on me. For the last few days I'd been living in this sort of dream-world. But this was real-life and in real-life you need things to survive and those things cost money. The 'how are we going to make this work' question had hit me like a rock. My own funds were _always _close to nil, and neither one of us were in an ideal position to find jobs.

If Erik was alone, I suspect he'd have been perfectly content to go around extorting and manipulating people to give him whatever he wanted, but the fact that he recognized that I was uncomfortable with that level of dishonesty _and_ sought to address it with me… well, it was sweet. And I felt like a weight was lifted off my shoulders.

I just blinked at him, but my emotion must have come through because Erik's eyes seemed to soften a bit.

"Come along, my dear," he said, taking my hand. "It is time we departed from this place."

Julian was bouncing around nervously about ten feet from the door, when we went to leave. Kind of like he was afraid to get any closer.

"It's ready for you," he stammered.

"Well done," Erik replied, coolly. He walked quickly with long strides and both Julian and I ended up jogging to keep up. It was a pride thing, on my part; I didn't want anyone to see Erik _drag _me anywhere.

"The car we arrived in will need to be returned. Can I trust you to see to that?"

"Y-yes, sir," the poor man panted.

"Excellent. I am pleased with you." Erik stopped at the edge of the plane and helped me inside. Then he turned back to Julian and handed him the envelope he had dug out of his desk earlier. "I find that I am no longer in need of your services." The guy shrunk even further… I understood, sort of, because it seemed like the kind of thing a villain would say in a movie before killing off one of his cronies.

"Stand up and have a little pride, man!" Erik snapped. Julian nervously opened the envelope and his eyes widened. "Today is a joyous day—I am to be married—and so I have decided to give you a gift. This is the deed to your… little company. You will find all the paperwork in order. I shall not trouble you again."

So, that was that. We boarded the plane and… flew off.

-0-0-0-

Once we were well on our way, Erik turned to me with hopeful eyes.

"You are pleased with Erik, are you not? I have done a good thing for you?"

_Well that was a bizarre question_. "What are you talking about?"

"I sensed that you had a… kinship… with that man. I could feel it, Christine, do not deny it. I would have killed him, but I did not. I did not for _you_. Does that please you, angel? Will you love me _now_? Erik has been kind to two men… two in one day!"

Agh. Is that not totally heartbreaking, or what? Seriously… he's like a child, sometimes.

"Of course it pleases me! But… it wasn't like that, you know. I didn't have any _feelings_ for him. I just felt bad for him, you know, because he was so scared."

"Yes, yes… sympathy… _pity_. You are so good at that. So good to strangers." Odd, but I couldn't tell if there was bitterness in those words. Couldn't tell if he was fond or angry. The emotion he was projecting was jumbled up, as well, so I didn't know what to make of that.

He shook his head—like a dog shaking off water—and changed his tone. "It matters not, I suppose. Christine will love me when we are married. Yes, then Erik will have a wife and he will be loved."

"Oh Erik… is that what this is about?"

He didn't answer; I'm not sure if I wanted him to or not. "Look, angel! We are going to land soon."

I my jaw dropped a little. _"Vegas?"_

-0-0-0-

The whole experience was bizarre, to say the least. Erik just marched along as if he had a plan and knew exactly what was going on. I didn't know how that could be possible, though, since we were practically attached to each other and I don't know when he would have had a chance to plan anything. I figured I'd just roll with it, though. His confidence gave me confidence, so I let him take the lead.

I was doing that more and more, lately. Letting him take over. Not like… him forcing control over me like he did before. Rather like me giving it to him freely. It was an odd sensation, not fighting. On the one hand, I felt like I _should_ feel guilty for being weak and giving up so easily. On the other hand, I couldn't seem to _make_ myself feel that way.

Erik didn't have mixed feelings about it at all. He was pure ecstasy every time my resistance slipped. It must be nice… to be absolutely _sure _of your feelings. To not be wrestling with your emotions all the time, like I was.

He secured a cellphone, first, and started making calls. I don't know who he was calling. Wedding chapels? Hotels? Evil henchmen? It was hard to tell… he's always so vague and mysterious when he talks. That's probably on purpose, come to think of it. If someone was trying to eavesdrop (like I was doing), they wouldn't really be able to tell what Erik was up to.

I found my mind drifting to different topics as I waited for him to complete whatever business he was planning. How _were _we going to make this happen? I kept staring at Erik's mask. Would they tell him to take it off? At least to sign the certificates and such. He wouldn't do it, of course, and given enough money, I suppose they'd be willing to overlook that sort of thing. But, still… it wasn't fair, was it, that someone would even bring it up? It was a touchy subject for Erik; it just didn't seem right to ruin his moment by mentioning his mask.

A thought occurred to me. Maybe I could help with that… make it more _normal_.

When Erik finished his phone call I asked him, "How do you feel about a themed wedding?"

His mien was one of hesitant disapproval—no doubt imagining gaudy lights and Elvis impersonations—though it quickly changed as I detailed my vision of a grand masquerade.

-0-0-

Funny thing about big cities—you can parade around in a gown and mask with an incarnate Red Death on your arm and nobody gives you more than a cursory, passing glance.

Erik was tense as a bowstring, but I did my best to act as if nothing was off. I chattered on about all sorts of random things that I don't think he was listening to, but that filled the silence. Occasionally I'd feel a swell of gratitude pass my direction, though.

When we reached our destination—a nice hotel with a ballroom for weddings—I found myself enamored with what Erik could throw together given a vague idea and a little bit of time. It was magical… in an eclectic, gypsy sort of way. There were guests… wearing mismatched clothes or rags, some with sparkly costume-shop masks and some with simple bandanas across their faces. I looked to Erik, questioningly.

With a shrug, he explained, "A man asked me for money, while you were changing. I told him to gather his friends and meet us here at the appointed time… that I would give a thousand dollars to anyone who showed up in a mask."

I took a second to phrase what I wanted to say tactfully. "That was… very generous of you."

"You are surprised I did not murder him."

"That's not what I…"

"It is what you _meant_. Do not worry, though, Erik forgives you." His voice was light, but I saw him look away and swallow visibly. "I meant only to please you, angel. Besides that, I…"

He looked confused. His head tilted ever so slightly and I could see him scowling even through that horrid skull-mask he was wearing.

"What is it?"

"I have… been… in that man's place. Hungry and cold. When I saw him I felt… I felt something foreign. Something I cannot articulate." He projected his emotions to me more strongly… a little like a frustrated kid, thrusting his homework at a parent to see if they can make sense of a math problem.

"Compassion," I translated. "You saw someone in need and you wanted to help them. That's compassion."

"Is it? I always thought… never mind."

"Have you never… I mean… you've never felt compassion before?"

He was silent for a moment. "Perhaps I have. It would have been so long ago… it is difficult to recall." Then, just like that, his emotions slammed down like they were beaten out of existence.

"I suppose it is lucky that he did not mean to pickpocket me… this would have gone down much differently for him, if that had been the case. But… it is of no consequence now. I hope I have made my bride happy. I wish for her to remember this as a happy day."

And I did… for the most part…


	38. Chapter 38

**Christine**

The ceremony itself was pretty standard, as far as weddings go. The fellow officiating followed the script and we said traditional vows. What I _hadn't_ expected was the bond's reaction. The moment we were announced husband and wife, I felt like it released its chokehold on my throat and receded into the back of my mind, purring like a kitten. Erik breathed in sharply, and when he kissed me it was an expression of joy and _relief_ rather than perfunctory gesture I had planned it to be.

"What happened?" I whispered amidst all the applause and background noise.

"Perhaps we convinced it that we will not attempt to part ways? I believe there was a measure of truth to our theory… that the less we fight the bond, the less it restricts us. It is still there—I can feel it—but it is pacified for now."

"Should we… try to separate, then? Like… see how far it'll extend?"

Erik shook his head. "Later, perhaps. We _had_ been wondering what would be possible if we decided to work with the bond rather than constantly testing its limits. I propose we continue doing so, for the time being. Tonight, at least. It is our wedding night, after all; spending it trying to escape me is hardly impeccable behavior, my dear."

Was he _leering _at me? What was that look in his eye? _Is he thinking about what I think he's thinking about?_ The growing undercurrent of emotion I felt from him confirmed that, yes, in fact, he was. I wasn't so sure how I felt about that. And of course, he sensed my hesitance and returned it with insecurity and no small amount of bitterness, which made me feel angry—

You know, there's something to be said for keeping one's feelings to themselves. I mean, you always kind of want to know what your counterpart is feeling, but this all-inclusive _knowing _had a tendency to put us onto these emotional spirals where we kept responding off each other and going crazy.

"We have to stop this!" I said.

"Agreed," he answered, solemnly. Then he took my hand and said, "There is no need for drama. Allow me to attend to a bit of business and then we shall retire to our room for the evening."

I wasn't so sure I liked the look in his eyes. It kind of made me wary in a 'is he thinking about what I think he's thinking about?' kind of way.

Before I could say a word about it, though, he was gone. Not far, but his attention was no longer on me. He was speaking softly to one of the hotel employees. The man was somewhat pale, so I had to wonder what Erik was threatening him with. Eventually the man nodded and scrambled away.

"What was that about?" I asked, when Erik had returned to my side.

"I had to ensure our _guests_ were compensated for their time, since we will not be available to see to it ourselves." I had to marvel at how fondly he said the words 'guests'. Erik sneers at the slightest sign of imperfection or inelegance. I mean slightest. For a guy who spent twenty years in a six by six hospital cell, he is surprisingly judgmental. Yet I believed I detected a mild ripple of affection when referring to this rag-tag group getting raucously drunk and slipping buffet food into their pockets. He's an odd duck, I tell you what.

"Besides that," he continued, "I had to be sure our suite was available for us."

"You got us a room?"

He seemed somewhat offended. "Of course! I did say I would take care of you. You are my wife! Surely you did not me to keep you underground or hiding in alleyways."

"You're right. Sorry. I guess I… I don't know… forget about it, okay? I'm sorry I doubted you."

"Very well then," he answered. "I believe we have lingered here long enough. Come with me, angel."

This sounds silly, but I was suddenly struck with the urge to giggle. Maybe it was exhaustion setting in. It just all seemed so absurd… in an almost magical sort of way. I mean… it did surpass all since of normality, didn't it? I had just fled a burning building with an escaped mental patient slash murder slash car-thief and arsonist. And then gotten into a plane and had a Vegas theme wedding with said individual. And now we were traipsing through the halls like a couple of vacationers. And _I wasn't even questioning it_. Like Erik said 'Hey let's go do this thing that's crazy and illegal and probably dangerous' and I'm like 'Okay, cool, whatever.'.

There _had _to be a rational reason for it. Like, maybe my bond with Erik was making me just as crazy as he was. Or maybe I was drugged or hypnotized or just giddy-tired…

But, at that moment, I just couldn't care less. Leaving the rest of our timeline out of this—in that _singular _moment in time… I was perfectly and completely happy.

Which made what happened next all the more horrible.

-0-0-0-

We opted for the stairs instead of the elevator—enclosed spaces make Erik a little uncomfortable since the hospital—but we took our time going up. I was being silly—saying and doing oddball things for no reason—and Erik was indulging me with good humor. We were relaxed, and I was vaguely reminded of those comfortable evenings, sharing stories and sandwiches on opposite sides of his cell door.

That had been the problem, you know, letting my guard down. I just about jumped out of my skin when we reached the top of the stairs and a man stepped out from around the corner.

_No, not a man_, I thought again after a moment. _A boy_. He couldn't have been more than fifteen or sixteen—lanky, all knees and elbows, you know?—but his eyes looked older. He didn't have that wide-eyed, awkward look of the kids I remember from high school. His face was somber, black eyes jaded and bitter. _And somehow familiar…_

"Hello _Erik_," the boy spat. _Wow, there's some anger there. So much for respect for your elders, right?_ "I suppose I don't have to introduce myself, do I?"

A half second pause while Erik gave the kid a once-over. "You must be Tarek Khan!" he exclaimed. It dawned on me as well… the voice and eyes were there, though his skin and hair were lighter. "I wondered if I was ever going to meet you. I was… unavailable… when you were first born, but I have seen pictures! Your father has always been very proud of—"

"Don't you DARE speak of my father!"

Erik looked taken aback. His previous dealings with the Khan family had always been about shared camaraderie and thinly-veiled death threats. _Erik_ had always been the volatile one; the Khan's, calm and steadfast—if exasperated at times. The pure _venom _in this boy's voice came as a surprise. Especially because they'd apparently never met.

"This is _all your fault_! Everything is your fault! You don't… you don't even _know, _do you?"

He was a very angry young man—much as Erik had been at that age. Erik must have seen that, because after the initial shock, his posture relaxed. He didn't hold that… insolent, lazy stance that he always used with Nadir… but he didn't seem as on edge, either. And he didn't seem to want to goad him like he did with the boy's father.

He raised a placating hand, though his other was stuffed into his pocket. "If you are referring to what happened with your father—"

The kid interrupted him. "You don't even know the _half _of what happened to my father. He was totally obsessed. All it ever was, was 'Erik this' and 'Erik that'. You'd think he was in love with you or something. Everything… _everything_ is all your fault, do you know? You ruined him. _You're _the reason he took that lousy job and _you're _the reason my mother left us! And now he's in the hospital and it's _all your fault!_" He was practically vibrating, he was so worked up. He also had a hand in his jacket. I wondered if Erik noticed.

Erik didn't concede or deny his accusations. Instead, he changed the subject. "How did you find me?"

He rolled his eyes and made that irritating scoffing noise that teenagers are so good at. "Please! Tracking you down is, like, the first thing I ever learned. Did you know… did you know that every minute I spent with my dad… the _only _time he ever had time for me… was when he was teaching me how to deal with _you_? How to find you, how to keep you out of trouble, how practically every one of my ancestors has been stuck with you because you're a _freak _who doesn't know how do the world a favor and just _die already_?"

Erik bristled at the term _freak_ and was suddenly on edge again.

"Now, listen here, boy—"

"I'M NOT YOUR BOY!" He shouted. I looked around to see if we were attracting attention, but the hall seemed to be empty. _He planned this!_

"Do you know _why _you don't die?" he continued, and his voice seemed almost distant. "Because nobody's tried hard enough!"

The series of events that followed happened quickly and awkwardly. Tarek Khan drew a small pistol from his jacket and Erik whipped a thin rope from his own. He wielded the rope with his left hand and extended his right to—I assume—summon the gun to him. Meanwhile I threw myself in front of Erik, knocked into him, breaking both his aim and his concentration.

And taking a bullet to the chest.

Whether the child intended to shoot or whether it was the accidental result of Erik's magic ripping the firearm from his hand, we'll never know.

We _did _know two things, however—first that I no longer had to wonder whether I had fallen in love with Erik. And, second, that we were finally about to find out what happens when half a soul dies.

And that was the last conscious thought I had for a very, very long time.


	39. Chapter 39

**Almost done, folks... just a few more chapters :) Don't forget to review!**

-0-0-0-

**Christine**

Do you know what hurts, like, _a lot_? Getting shot in the chest. And do you know what else feels like getting shot in the chest? Nothing. In fact, I'll go so far as to apologize for all the times I've ever made analogies or references to something feeling like a shot in the chest… because nothing compares.

Seriously, it's the worst.

For a while, all I remember is waking up on pain, a soft rustle of sheets and a pin-prick in my arm, and then falling asleep again. Everything was all shadowed faces and soft voices… a comforting weight against my side and a cool pressure over my heart that made it feel better, rather than worse.

When I finally managed to force some consciousness, the sight that greeted me was a pair of glowing amber eyes, watching me intently. My vision cleared even more and I was able to make out the contours of Erik's face—unmasked and even more haggard than usual, if that is even possible.

"Christine," he whispered. I sighed; even trembling, that voice was still as angelic and hypnotizing as ever. "How do you feel, Christine?"

I experimentally flexed my fingers and toes and turned my head from side to side. _Yep, pretty awful_, I decided. I felt a coolness pulsing over my chest and looked down to see Erik's hand there.

"What you are doing feels good," I mentioned, gesturing to the massaging hand.

He shrugged. "A hunch, I suppose. I remembered how your touch felt after I burnt my arm and suspected our bond may have healing properties. At the time, it seemed there was little to lose, so I took the risk. I could sense, through the bond, how my touch relieved you, and so I have remained this way as often as possible."

I took a quick glance at the arm in question; it was fully healed.

"How long has it been?" I asked carefully.

"Two weeks."

"That long? How have you managed? Have you truly been here this entire time?"

"Most of it, yes." Good gracious! No wonder he looked so terrible. I wondered when he'd eaten last. Or slept.

He continued, "The hotel staff has been paid handsomely for their discretion… and _persuaded_ to forget the details. Errand boys have delivered most of the supplies you required."

"Paid handsomely?"

He gestured to a safe in the closet; it was half open and nearly spilling over with gold. Like actual gold—as in, it looked like a pirate chest or something.

"I told you that I could provide for you, did I not? This is one of many reserves I have hidden in various places of the world. It has remained untouched, which was a fortunate discovery. No one else has rented this room in decades. It is considered haunted… as it was the site of several unsolved killings."

I nearly squealed, I was so creeped out. He seriously put me in a room where people had _died_? The question died in my mouth as an even more horrific one took its place.

"Erik… do you… know something about those killings?"

His mouth was set in a grim line, but he didn't seem particularly apologetic. "Erik was a different man back then," he answered—not denying it, which was confirmation enough for me. "Forgive me for mentioning it… it was not my intention to frighten you. Erik forgets sometimes how delicate you can be."

That didn't make me feel any better. I kind of bristled, too. _Well… sorry for being too _delicate_ to enjoy sleeping in the middle of a _murder_-scene_, I thought.

I shook off my need to snap at him, though, and asked, "What happened to the kid who shot me?"

"I cut him into tiny pieces and sprinkled them from a tall tower."

I gasped and, for a moment, Erik seemed hurt—though I couldn't imagine why he had a right to be. "You still do not trust me," he said in response.

It wasn't a question—at least as far as syntax was concerned—yet it seemed like my answer was important to him, so I thought it through for a second before responding. "Erik," I said, "you and I have been through a lot together in a short amount of time. Not all of it has been good, either. But you have always looked after my physical wellbeing, so I guess there's no reason not to trust you there. And I think we've made progress in other areas, too, haven't we? That has to count for something."

He shook his head and I wondered if I had said the wrong thing. But he'd know if I was lying… and I couldn't very well just give a blanket 'yes' and mean it sincerely. Not so soon after he killed Joseph for getting too close to me and nearly killing Raoul for trying to protect me. Erik might be a changed man now, but it would take a while for my brain to rid itself of that niggling doubt that he might go all crazy-town again and do a lot of bad things. I knew, without question, that he would never try to hurt _me._ But that doesn't equal implicit trust in all things.

He sighed. "I packed him up and sent him back to his mother. One cannot speculate over what _she _will do with him from there, but I assure you that the child did not meet any harm at _Erik's _hand."

"Thank you."

Erik shrugged. "Perhaps I would have acted differently on another day, in another circumstance. Or if you had died, after all. I _wanted_ to kill him… No… I wanted to _destroy_ him. I wanted to _obliterate his soul_. But, more so, I wanted to stay by your side. I could not bear the thought of you suffering alone while I sought a vengeance you would never have approved of."

"Well… thank you, just the same. And thank you for… tending me… all this time."

"I love you," he answered, simply, as if that was all there needed to be said.

I looked around… still squicked out by the murder room… but also curious. "Why am I here, anyway… why am I not in a hospital?" Not to many gunshot victims recuperate in hotel rooms sans medical professionals.

"A hospital would not have understood, believe me. They would not have tolerated my need to be near you and they would not have understood how you could have survived what happened to you. Too many questions, too many difficulties. I have been a… specimen… before and it is not a fate I would wish on you."

"What… what _did _happen to me? I mean, besides the obvious."

"Yes… I suppose you were too disoriented to feel it… the pull, that is. I felt a tug at my soul… as if our bond was stretched close to the point of breaking before snapping back into place. It was as I had hypothesized… that you would not die as long as I live… and likewise, the reverse would not be an unreasonable deduction."

His voice cracked slightly and he bowed his head. "I felt it, Christine. I felt you stop breathing… felt your heart still beneath my hand… only to beat again moments later."

I considered what that must have been like for him. He loved me… so very much. Even without the bond, it must have hurt him to watch. I couldn't begin to fathom what I would have done in his position.

Then I thought of myself, again. The pain, the fear. But at least I had Erik by my side. _How often has he gone through this alone?_

"Is this what you meant, then? About your life being about constant death… always being snatched back at the last minute?"

He nodded. "I was foolish to hope that I could spare you that… that I could protect you. But, yes, it is essentially this."

"Are you saying… I mean… is this_ it_ for us?" I gestured to the bandages and to the bloody cloth in the waste basket. "This is what our eternity will look like?"

"My angel… I swear I will do everything in my power to prev—"

"NO! I can't… I can't do this. What if it's you next time? I can't live like this!" I tried to struggle, sit up, but it hurt too much. My ribs had been broken, there was much internal damage. I laid back and… oh… it even hurt to cry.

Erik—bless him—soothed me as best he could. He stroked my hair and sang a little. It helped a little bit… until my mind went wild with conclusions.

"What about my friends? They're going to die someday… I'm just going to watch every one I've ever loved die."

Erik squeezed my hand. "Everyone?" he asked, darkly. "Truly?"

"Forgive me; that was thoughtless. No, not everyone, of course. We'll have each other, won't we? But… but Erik what if that's not enough? I'm not like you. I haven't learned to live away from everyone… I don't _want _to learn. I _need_ people. I need friends." The bond was growling at me like an animal. I didn't _mean _to hurt Erik, like that… it just seemed like I had one 'open mouth, insert foot' moment which led to another, which led to another.

"Ugh… sorry, again. That didn't come out right, either. You know my heart, though, right? Do you know what I mean to say, even if I am not articulating it well?"

He stared at me, and for a moment I wondered if he was going to forgive me or not. A few weeks ago, he would have gone mad over such comments… but he'd been more understanding since the bond. Not less intense… just less fearsome.

"I do understand," he said, after a time. "You are young… and the human race has not treated you as it has me. And, I shall admit… seeing you this way… feeling your agony… it was almost more than I could bear. I am… unaccustomed to feeling so helpless. I am unaccustomed to _many _of the feelings your presence has brought me."

I knew all about feeling helpless. I was feeling it more than ever. Trying to come to terms with… an existence of… _this_.

"I can't do this," I whispered. "Forever is… so long. I can't, Erik… I just can't live this way. Please… is there nothing you can do?" I was begging. Hoping against hope that he had another trick up his sleeve and could just… make this better.

He was silent for a very long time. My head was starting to hurt and I felt like I wasn't getting enough oxygen… but breathing deeper hurt too.

"There is one option," he said at last, "But I have prayed for so long that it would never come to this."

"What is it? Tell me, Erik… _anything _is better than this!"

"We must go back."

I tried to get him to elaborate, but he refused to speak. He gave me another dose of pain medicine and hummed a tune that made me drowsy.

I fell into a fitful sleep… occasionally waking to a feeling of terror, too strong to be my own.


	40. Chapter 40

**A/N - Sorry, again, for the delay. And double-sorry to those of you who heard me promise I wouldn't do that anymore. My big brother died, you see, and I've been more interested in turtle-time than writing. Thanks to _Nade-Naberrie_ for the 'gentle nudge'. I'm back in business. At any rate, it shouldn't be long now... two or three more chapters. I can't really commit to a number, but rest assured we're on the home stretch now. **

**Thanks for reading. Don't forget to review :)**

* * *

**Christine**

Erik didn't talk much during the rest of my recuperation.

Well… he did. He just didn't _say _much.

No, instead, he brought me scores to peruse and articles from musicology journals that he wanted to discuss. And to dreamed-out-loud about the sort of music he'd like to review with me as soon as I was well enough to resume singing.

I knew what he was doing… he dealt with emotional defenselessness by throwing himself into music. That's just how he operated. If something was out-of-control, he'd clamp down on the things he _could _control. And, if that something was a torrent of emotion, he'd channel it into his music… which required less analytical concentration and had the versatility to follow him into whatever light or dark world he was plummeting into.

Problem being that there was no piano and I wasn't really in a position to sing. And _he _couldn't sing since, in the mood he was in, his voice would likely prompt everyone in the building throw themselves off the roof or something. He bought a violin… but a string broke under his abuse. Of course, he could always leave for a time and find somewhere to play—and occasionally he did—but the bond tugged at him when he was away for too long and, anyway, he seemed to prefer sitting where he could keep a hand or two on me.

His touch still felt better than any morphine he gave me. And I don't mean that in some rainbows-and-puppies-romantic way, either. He continuously channeled power into me, knitting together wounds and it, literally, felt better.

I wasn't really going to complain about whatever style of entertainment (or at least, mental occupation) he came up with, anyway. There really wasn't much else to do. There was a television, but it was old (like, _old _old) and didn't work right. It's not like a hotel was going to spend resources updating a room they never rented. Occasionally Erik would amuse me with magic tricks and ventriloquism… and then amuse himself by convincing me to give it a try and then laughing at my sorry attempts.

He brought me gifts. Whenever he didleave, even for a short time, he'd bring something back to me. Jewelry, small oddities, books and games… even a stuffed bear, which he handed me with a roll of his eyes, as if he was embarrassed to be acting like a love-struck adolescent. Still, I sensed his relief when I accepted the offering joyfully.

It probably made me seem really awful and materialistic that, as soon as Erik left, I'd wonder what he was going to bring me. I felt like a kid whose dad brings back little trinkets from business trips.

I should probably be ashamed of myself… as shallow as it makes me sound—I like _things_. New things, pretty things. I grew up with other people's cast-offs. Hand-me-down clothes and borrowed toys. Nothing wrong with that, I guess… I just always felt distant from my friends who always had the newest and the coolest. Even Raoul… well… _especially _Raoul. It was a weird barrier that had been between us, as kids… although, sweet boy, he probably didn't even know there _was_ a barrier there. Didn't notice that I was uncomfortable at his birthday parties. He _couldn't_ understand; he always had everything he wanted.

Not Erik, though. Erik _got it._ He understood me. And not just because of our bond… but because I got the impression that he was also the kid on the outside. Maybe that's why his houses were always filled with random shiny knick-knacks. I dunno.

I thought… I thought I might have been attracted to him even if the bond _hadn't _forced us together.

_Whooo… and if that thought doesn't scare the pants of me…I tell you what!_

I looked down at my ring—a real ring, made of gold and jewels rather than one conjured from fear and ultimatums. It was lovely—two diamond studded bands that were loosely braided—and I had the impression that Erik might have made it himself. In the center was a lovely green stone that I didn't recognize. It was too clear to be an emerald, but the exact color is hard to pinpoint. Too blue to be green but too yellow to be turquoise; it vaguely reminds me of those nature shows about the rainforest. A color that's too _natural _to fit into a proper box of human description.

When I asked Erik about it, he explained that it was a sapphire he'd picked up in his travels. He didn't steal it (which surprised me in and of itself) and, in fact, paid much more for it than he should have—he was that desperate for it. That baffled me, to be honest, considering who he was and what he owned.

I asked him what was so special about it; he got this really far-away look in his eye.

"It reminded me of where I came from," he answered, eventually.

And _that _answer was even more confusing. Of course, he meant the 'palace' where he spent his miserable childhood. From the memories I'd glimpsed, I got the distinct impression that he'd want to forget as much about that time as possible.

He shrugged. "It was not without its beauty." He held my hand and looked at me intently—I almost felt like he was searching for something, but after a moment, he sighed and turned away. "There are few things in the universe that are wholly evil," Erik explained. "Of course, I never intended to return, because it would mean facing _him _again. But I did appreciate the nature and the animals, and there were a few—not many, but a few—people there who were genuinely kind to me. It took me many years to realize it, and by then it was too late. Not that it mattered, anyway—I do not miss it, but neither do I want to forget it."

It was the first time he'd actually spoken of the palace like this. I wanted to press him for more, but I could feel his grief, and I wasn't so sure it was fair to force the conversation.

_But, still… he said we'd be going back there. I _need _to know._

"What will it be like, Erik? When we go back…"

He shook his head. "It is difficult to speculate. As you know, I did not leave under the best of circumstances."

"You speak so lightly for something that's defined your whole life."

He removed his mask briefly and wiped his brow. He was pained, and that would have been obvious even if our emotions weren't tied. His hand trembled a little as he replaced the mask.

"I suspect it will look very much like it did when I was last there," he answered at last. "Time turns differently, and the inhabitants hardly age."

"So… I'll actually be meeting the same people you remember?"

He nodded. "More or less, depending on _his _whims. Men and children, mostly, but there are a few women. Women of great beauty and charisma of the sort that one only sees in legends and fairytales."

Is it arrogant to say that I didn't feel even the slightest insecurity when he spoke of 'women of great beauty'? Well maybe I did, just a little. But his far-off, emotionless tone didn't give me any room to dwell on it.

"There is no self-identity, in the palace. None of the residents have names… or, they cannot remember their names."

"_Why?_" I asked.

"Because they are _of no consequence,_" He sneered. "They are no more than decorations to the Erlking. Little trinkets for him to collect and toys for his daughters to play with."

"But I thought—"

"I was different. I was _special_. In me, he saw an heir, not a plaything. He took an active role in my… upbringing."

After a moment's hesitation, I asked, "What's he like?"

"Pray you never meet him."

"But I _am _going to meet him, aren't I? _You_ said we were going back. Don't you think I should at least have an idea of what we're up against?"

Erik sneered, and I knew I'd pushed a button. I wasn't sure what else to say; I felt like I was flying blind into someone else's nightmare. I wanted to be prepared… but I think there were no questions I could have asked that would give me an adequate picture of what I was getting into. Even the visions I'd glimpsed from Erik were hazy… or maybe the opposite, actually… too bright to make sense. I wasn't sure if he was trying to hide part of his past from me or if it was truly one of those 'fish explaining water' moments.

"Erik?" I asked, somewhat timidly.

He gestured to himself, somewhat sarcastically. "He can command the elements, shape minds like clay… encapsulate souls with a single touch. Sound like anyone you know?"

"You do those things… but you're not so bad."

He gaped at me, for a moment. "How can you _still _be so innocent?" He didn't seem angry… just really incredulous. It made me feel like an idiot. I scowled at him and he at least had the decency to look apologetic.

"It is very… kind… of you to forget all you have seen and heard of Erik. But…" he paused and thought about it, before continuing, "But you may actually have a point. Perhaps next to _him_, Erik might not seem quite so despicable after all." I was about to argue, and Erik knew it, because he put a finger over my lips before I even got a word out. "Christine, my angel… I know that you long to see the good in people, but this is not the time. There is no good in the Erlking; it is against his nature. He is the embodiment of evil. And I… and I am so very much like him…"

"Except you're not. Not really. You fought him, you escaped, lived hundreds of years without doing the things that he did."

"But I succumbed eventually, regardless. I may have resisted at first, but it was futile in the end. Do you not understand, Christine? I did not just kill people… I _vanished their souls_! You are a fool if you can forgive that!"

I didn't answer, because I didn't think I could. He was right, after all.

The silence didn't stand well between us. Erik was all electricity and desperation. I could feel him begging me to say something… something not condemning but not flippant, either. Something reassuring, but believable.

"You're not evil, Erik. It's not possible. You… you fell in love, didn't you?"

His eyes softened and he touched my face. "I did. And perhaps _that _is the difference between us."

"Are you afraid?" I whispered.

"It would be foolish not to be cautious," he answered, carefully, but I knew there was more to it than that. The way his chest rattled, the way I could sense him trying to block his emotions from our link—it was more than just residual energy from his outburst. He was lying, and I knew it, but I was not about to unman him by calling him on it. If he wanted to feel like the brave on in our relationship, I wouldn't dream of taking that from him.

But, to be frank, Erik's attitude worried me. I had visited some of his worst memories—I'd seen him burned, poisoned, flayed alive—but I'd never seen him frightened. I'd felt his bitterness, his rage… but fear was never part of the equation, with him. To be honest, until recently, I didn't even think he was capable of it.

One thing was for sure—whatever was strong enough to frighten Erik, was not something I wanted to meet.

In the end, we just held each other in silence, enjoying the feelings of warmth and safety that accompanied. Those were lies, too—Erik was cold as ice at the best of times, and safety would always be false if I remained with him—but we were content, nonetheless.

The magic was working, and my body felt better with each passing moment, which in turn made me feel worse—I couldn't shake the feeling that we were counting our days. But, for now, it was just the two of us, pretending.


	41. Chapter 41

**Christine**

My convalescence was over all too quickly. Injuries I should have died from healed, without so much as a scar, in just a few weeks' time. Erik kept me in bed a little longer than necessary but, before long, even he couldn't deny the truth.

It was time to go back.

"Dress comfortably," Erik instructed, "but bring nothing. Erik will provide for your needs, and we must not be encumbered."

Not sure what else to do, I just nodded obediently and left to change. When I had returned, everything in the room looked clean and untouched. To this day, I have no idea what Erik did with all of our belongings. Perhaps he vanished them, or destroyed them. Even his violin was gone.

"Are you sure we cannot continue this way forever?" he asked. "Erik has been... so very happy."

My heart tugged at the childlike way he said that, but I remembered the pain of dying-but-not-dying and I had to be honest. "I know you were. I felt it. But... what if this happened again?"

"Erik would protect you! No one will ever harm Christine!"

I didn't mention the fact that he _hadn't_ protected me this time, and I _had _been harmed, and what if something like this happened again. I wasn't cruel enough to rub salt in a wound I knew he'd always agonize over. Also, I wasn't stupid enough, since I wouldn't put it past him to lock me up in a tower somewhere to keep his vow.

"I know, Erik," I said, instead. "But what if this happened to _you_? Would you put me through that? Would you force me to watch you suffer?"

I wouldn't have thought those words would garner the reaction they did, but Erik actually grinned. It was an endearing look, I think... half arrogant, half joyous.

_I knew you cared!_ I heard Erik's voice, echoing in my head.

I scowled at him, sort of feeling like I'd somehow been trapped in a corner. The word 'inevitable' rattled around my head bitterly.

Still, Erik's vulnerable moment had been broken and he was back to the commanding presence I couldn't help but follow.

-0-0-0-

When Erik first led me to the car, I'd assumed we'd be going to an airport. I mean... I'd seen Erik's life and I knew he did not come from this country originally. I was expecting we'd take some adventurous trip to some remote Scandinavian forest where we'd climb mountains and... I don't know... search for artifacts or something. I hadn't really thought that far into the fantasy. I just knew there had to be some level of extreme outdoorsmanship if we were going to uncover some legendary palace that existed outside of time.

It wasn't nearly so complicated as that, though, and I was wholeheartedly surprised when Erik bypassed all the populated areas and started driving up into the mountains. We drove a few miles into the National Forest and pulled to the side of the road near a well-traveled hiking trail.

"What are we doing out here? Is there... like... a helicopter waiting or something?" Maybe it was a dumb question. Maybe it was outlandish to assume Erik would have magically arranged some form of transportation in the middle of nowhere just to avoid airport security. But, by that point, I'd learned not to be _too _surprised by Erik's actions. He has this ability to just... make things happen. Sometimes his methods make sense, sometimes not. Like the laws of reality just sense his determination and figure it's not worth putting up a fight. And so much had happened in our short relationship already that I figured life would just be easier if I just... _went along with it_. Frankly, Erik could have told me a spaceship was waiting and I wouldn't have said two words about it.

"The Erlking's palace is not a place you would find on a traditional map. As such, it is not restricted to any one area." As Erik explained, my mind called up all sorts of sci-fi concepts of portals and alternate dimensions. He gave me an odd, appraising look, and continued, "Perhaps one might wonder why it is that not every person who wanders into the forest remains unaccounted for. Why some lucky travelers are rescued alive or why the bodies are recovered of those less fortunate.

"It is a place that exists within nature... but not within space and time, as you understand it. Men sometimes stumble upon it; others are sought out by inhabitants of the palace." He gave me a meaningful look. "_We_, however, will be looking for it intentionally."

"How's that going to work? You said you couldn't place it on a map."

We reached a place where the trail forked in two. "The forest will show me the location," he said, and with a wave of his hand, he created a third path.

I happily trotted after him, looking a little bit like an awestruck tourist.

-0-0-0-

'Hiking' was a loosely accurate term for what we did. I'd been initially nervous, you see, since I'm not quite the athletic type and I had these images in my head of climbing rocks and maneuvering streams and all sorts of activities that require a sense of balance. Plus I hate bugs. I hadn't thought to bring bug spray or sunscreen or anything.

But it was nothing like that, at all. Erik walked two steps ahead of me and the forest just bent and moved to accommodate him. Trees bent back and rocks repositioned, giving us a smooth and level walkway. When we had to cross water, a little bridge would form for us, only to crumble again moments after we had crossed. The trees spread their branches to keep the sun and the heat at bay. It was literally 'a walk in the park'. Maintained gardens were not even that comfortable.

"This is lovely," I said peacefully.

"Do not allow yourself to be fooled, my angel. The forest may welcome us now, but we must not allow ourselves to be lulled into false security. Never forget the one to whom this place belongs."

No sooner had he said this, when a large owl swooped overhead and landed on a nearby branch. Everything about it seemed off somehow. Admittedly, the extent of my orthinological knowledge is limited to a biology class I took pass/fail, but I guess I thought owls were nocturnal creatures. And stealthier. And... I don't know... less interested in seeking out humans and staring at them all creepy-like. Isn't that what they say about wild animals-that they're more afraid of you than you are of them?

Erik, on the other hand, was only mildly surprised. He met the bird's unblinking gaze fearlessly.

"Curious," he said. "We are not far off the main trail. I had thought we would be hiking for much longer, still. Yet it appears we are being watched."

After a moment, he addressed the bird. "I trust that you know who I am?" The owl hooted. "Then you must know what I am capable of." It hooted again and shifted from foot to foot. Erik nodded as if he knew what that meant.

"I will not ask you to disobey your master. I only ask that you delay telling him of our presence for a few hours. Give us until nightfall. I promise you will be rewarded for your trouble." With a flick of his hand, a wind kicked up, clearing some leaves and unearthing a small family of mice. The owl—as well as two others I had not yet noticed—descended upon them before carrying them off in the direction we had just came from.

I refused to let myself think about the poor little mice. Erik chuckled anyway, and made some comment about my 'endearing softheartedness'.

"Come, angel," he said. "We do not have much time. The owls may have been appeased but no doubt _he_ has other eyes about the forest. Besides," he added, closing his eyes and inhaling, "We are almost there. I can sense it."

I closed my eyes and tried to pick up on what he was sensing, but I had no luck. The air still felt like air, the trees still smelled like trees.

"Do not be disappointed," he said. "You do not have a link to it, as I have. Once you have been to the palace, you will understand."

-0-0-0-

"This is it, Christine. Do you see? This is where our story began."

Erik had certainly been accurate in his portrayal of the palace. It was more like a garden, really. And there were people there, milling about. Children playing ball in the grass and lovely young women holding court with small clusters of men.

As we passed, the people started to disperse. The men whispered suspiciously and the children (God bless them! No sense of subtlety whatsoever!) ran away, dodging behind rocks or clutching at the skirts of the young women, who merely looked at us in horror.

Erik pretended not to see them—he just glided through the crowd, regal as a king. If anything, you could say he was mildly disgusted by the whole thing.

I didn't understand the reaction, at first. I knew we were outsiders... but it didn't seem to warrant _that _much nervousness.

On impulse, I linked my arm through Erik's. I smiled up at him. Perhaps _he _didn't need the encouragement, but I sure did. Oddly enough, though, that seemed to relax everyone... just a little. After a few minutes, I saw them begin to fill the garden once again—still tense... but just a _little _less suspicious.

"It is the mask," Erik murmured, after a time. "It pleases me that you have learned not to see it, angel, but surely you must remember how disconcerting it is. Seeing someone... _normal_... relaxed on my arm makes me a little less intimidating. You are a wise woman, my dear. Your instincts guide you well."

Another time, in another place, I'd probably roll my eyes. His compliments sounded every bit teacher-to-student... and, by that point, I'd wanted to think we were a little past that level of relationship. Yet... somehow his formal language made sense, in this place. As if every word he spoke was meant to be overheard.

I didn't have a great deal more time to ponder it, though, because at that moment, a woman came bounding down the hill. For a second, I expected her to throw herself into Erik's arms... but she stopped just short of touching him. Erik gripped me tighter and pulled me ever so slightly behind him.

"Erik!" she cried. "Erik, is that you? I had heard you had returned!"

Her _voice_! Oh my goodness! I wanted to shake my head around... her voice was _hypnotic._ I can hardly describe. It was near impossible to make out her words, I was so absorbed in the sound of her speaking. Then Erik joined in... just talking, mind you, not singing or anything spectacular... and my head started spinning. I swear, in that moment, I would have done anything that woman said. If she wanted me to, I'd just go and throw myself off a bridge somewhere. However, she was not commanding anything of me. She was simply conversing with Erik, who didn't seem to be having nearly the same trouble as I did.

_Erik... _

It somehow clicked then. I knew that voice. Erik used it from time to time. It was that persuasive tone that so enthralled everyone. The one he used to drive his fellow hospital patients into rages. That voice that could do simple things like get us a free rental car, or horrifying atrocities like convince those Persian guards to flay themselves alive.

So, yeah, I recognized that voice. But he rarely used it on _me._ He seemed to be able to turn it off and on. This woman—this _siren—_did not seem to have that ability.

I blinked a few times and _concentrated. _Erik's words. I could make out Erik's words.

Bits and pieces. "Angel... found her... mine... he will not..." That's all I got, here and there. If that woman would only be _silent_!

"You should not have come," spoke another female voice from behind us. _This _one, I could understand. Erik and I both turned around to see her.

This is weird, but I instantly liked this lady. She had warm, red hair and warm, brown eyes and... well everything about her just screamed _warmth_. Have you ever seen someone and thought 'yeah, I could totally hug that person'? Am I the only one who thinks that? It's usually a sweet old lady... and this woman was definitely _not_... yet the effect was somehow the same.

"Surely you know how dangerous it is for you. _He_ nearly killed you once." There was no derision in the woman's voice, only concern. She eyed the mask warily, wondering (I assume) what was underneath it.

Erik sneered at her. "_I _have not forgotten. Certainly, you need not remind me."

She simply nodded. She and Nadir Khan both had the baffling ability to take Erik's snarkiness in stride... even return it with gentleness. Was she used to it? Perhaps he was this way as a child?

"I see you have found your young lady. Is this the angel you so often spoke of?"

"I have," he murmured. Erik's voice gentled when he spoke of me and he stroked the back of my neck a little. I shut my eyes and made a half-hearted attempted at not... I don't know... _melting _and making a fool of myself. The bond hadn't lessened between us, you see, and physical contact still has a more electric effect than it would with a normal person under ordinary circumstances. I leaned back into him and let him wrap his arms around me.

Erik continued to converse with the women a while longer, and I more or less tuned out. It was exhausting to try and focus through the fog whenever that siren lady spoke, so I gave up the attempt. I vaguely noticed a third female voice join in at some point, but I didn't bother to open my eyes until I felt a warm hand on my arm.

The hand was warm... but it _hurt_. Holy smokes, did it hurt! I'd forgotten how painful the bond made it to touch other people. I guess I'd thought we were beyond that level of tension. Apparently not.

It was only for a second, though. Erik yanked me behind him and all but snarled at the woman.

"Aw, you are no fun at all," she pouted. "I only wanted to have a look at her."

She was a gorgeous girl, and knew it. Tousled black hair that brushed slightly bared shoulders, bracelets around her wrists and ankles. She was graceful and toned in a way that shamed me into feeling like an elephant. But that pout... you could recognize that expression anywhere. It's that flirty look of a woman who's used to convincing men to do absolutely anything she wished.

I instantly hated her.

Erik seemed disinterested in _that _way... but he wasn't exactly sending her away either. I scanned my brain, trying to recall this woman from the memories Erik had given me. They'd always had something of a love-hate relationship, but I gathered they'd parted amicably enough.

Still, it squicked me out that she knew him last as a child, but dared to use that seductive look on him as a man.

"_You will not touch her, you vile harpy."_

"Still no manners, I see. Well, fine. Be that way. I only wanted to see the woman you always went on and on about. From my vantage she seems to be nothing special at all. All the time you spent obsessing... I would have thought-"

"Shut your mouth, nymph. I will not have you speak of her that way. Perhaps you have forgotten who I am... _what I can do_."

She squared her shoulders... but did have the sense to step back a bit. Geez that woman has brass ones. I know I'm not able to stand up to Erik when he exudes danger like that. It's like staring down a grizzly bear.

"Of course I know what you can do," she retorted. "What mere mortal could have survived the king's attack like that? But... as for _who you are_... perhaps you should not think so highly of yourself. You left, remember? And rumor has it that my father has found another."

"Really Erik," the redhead cut in, timidly. "You must not stay. Many of us thought you were dead, after what happened to you. Few believed you could have survived that. And the king was in a mad rage for a century. He destroyed nearly half his kingdom. You have never known fury like that. You may have lived once, but I shudder to think what would happen if he were to find out that you have ret-"

Her speech was cut off by a deep, graveled voice from behind us.

"Welcome home, beloved. I have missed you."


	42. Chapter 42

_**Thanks for all the inspiring reviews! You guys are great :) **__**If you want me to respond, make sure you enable your profile to allow PMs!**_

* * *

**Christine**

_"Welcome home, beloved. I have missed you."_**  
**

I don't think another voice could have frozen the blood in my veins like that one did. There was something _off _about it. Like when you hear that phrase "he smiled but it didn't reach his eyes"... think of the vocal equivalent of that. The Erlking's voice was warm and conversational... but there was something _soulless _about it.

I couldn't get a good look at him at first. Erik was much quicker than I and, when the man first spoke, Erik whipped us around and blocked my view with his body. Outwardly, he projected nothing but confidence... but I placed my hand on his back and felt how, beneath his ill-fitted clothing, he trembled like a leaf. I slid my hand down his arm and held his hand. His palms were sweating.

He was frightened. My Erik, who could command monarchs, was reduced to a shivering rabbit. It unsettled me, but there was little I could do. I projected any loose grains of courage I could muster... lending assurance I wasn't sure I believed. But... Erik squeezed my hand and relaxed ever so slightly.

Still, he kept himself between us. It was touching, in a bizarre way. In a time of great difficulty, he still chose to shield me first. I was shamed and humbled for having doubted his protection earlier that day.

The Erlking tsk'd at him. "Now, now... none of that. Selfishness is unbecoming. Show us the beauty you have found. Let me see the angel you gave all this up for."

Erik snarled—like _snarled_... like a wolf—and his hand tightened around mine. Still I couldn't resist the urge to peek around his shoulder.

The Erlking looked like he belonged in the woods. He was large and broad shouldered. His fingers were bony and twig-like... but the rest of him was muscular like an ox, and it made for a very strange looking combination. The cape around his shoulders was sewn from animal skins and his hair and beard were unkempt... just enough to look dangerous.

Somehow, in all this, he managed to look regal. In that way, I could see the similarities between the king and Erik. Despite appearances, they both commanded an unwavering sense of awe.

But, while Erik was slender and graceful, the Erlking was, quite literally, a force of nature. If his outward appearance wasn't apparent enough, the way the ground shifted and his cape fluttered without breeze was too obvious to ignore.

Part of me felt entrapped by the look of him, and I can't say how long I stared before I was able to look away and survey the rest of my surroundings. If more words _had_ been spoken between the two men, I never heard them.

Beside the Erlking was a small boy, probably no older than seven. He was wearing shorts and an oversized t-shirt featuring a cartoon superhero that I didn't recognize. Camping clothes, you know? I couldn't help but wonder about him. What country was he from? How did he come to be here? Did he still have family looking for him?

Erik had mentioned that some of the children had been here hundreds, even thousands, of years. Any loved ones would be long dead and buried. I'd accepted it, to an extent; they looked so content and happy with their lives. Yet, with this boy, the thought made me so very sad. Perhaps it was the somber look on his face. Or the expressive yellow eyes that glowed with some repressed emotion.

Yes, his eyes were an iridescent gold. Unique to the rest of the world, yet identical to the two other men in the valley with me. I knew—just _knew—_that this child was the 'other' the woman had spoken about. The _replacement _that had been found. Was he destined to become soulless like the Erlking... or broken like Erik? He was so young... I had to believe there was hope for him, still.

"Hey, little guy," I said.

He scowled. "Sam. My name is Sam," he answered, sullenly. I remembered the child-Erik and his disdain for the namelessness of the Palace. The others accepted it unquestioningly, but he had stubbornly clung to his individuality. One of the many things that made him so special, I suppose.

"Sorry," I corrected, with a smile. "It's nice to meet you, Sam. My name is Christine."

A hand clamped down on my shoulder as I was pushed again behind Erik. "Do not speak another word," he commanded me. In my mind, he continued—_What did I tell you about false security? You must trust no one but Erik._

"So hostile, beloved!" the Erlking said with a smirk. "Shall I dare to believe you might be jealous? You may have thought yourself precious for an instant... but I have found another with the potential to surpass your greatness." He wrapped an arm around Sam's shoulder and carded bony fingers through his hair in a way that disgusted me and made Erik seethe.

"Tell him, my boy. Tell your wayward brother what it is like to know you are destined for glory. Tell him he is as inconsequential as the rest, now."

"Sam," he corrected—much more timidly this time, but still resolute. "Not 'my boy'... it's just Sam."

The Erlking's eyes flared red for a moment and then he grinned unpleasantly. "Suddenly so bold are you, _my boy_? Do these strangers incite such brashness in you that you would dare to defy _me_?"

With an extending of his arm, Erik's mask flew into the Erlking's waiting hand. It caught both of us off guard... Erik, so stunned that he did not even move to cover his face.

"Do not seek a hero in this man," the king chided. "Look, boy. Go and see what happens to those who fall from my favor."

The Erlking shoved the little boy forward. He was trembling, and my heart went out to him. Poor kid! Those familiar, amber eyes traveled up Erik's body reluctantly. He didn't make a sound, but tears were streaming down his cheeks. I knew the moment he reached Erik's face; an obvious dark spot spread across the front of this shorts and a trickle dripped down his leg.

His eyes went wide when he realized what had just happened. He looked to me helplessly, and I just couldn't take it anymore. He was too young, too innocent... too much like Erik.

I darted forward. "Sam, sweetie, come here-"

Faster than I can even describe, the Erlking grabbed my outstretched arm and pulled me to him. I... I hardly knew what happened. One moment I was reaching for the little boy, the next, he was nowhere to be seen and my back was pressed against the Erlking's chest.

Erik was... oddly calm. He was stock-still and even his breathing was imperceptible. There was no trace of the anxiety or twitchiness from earlier and he projected no emotion to me, whatsoever. I might as well have been trying to read a brick wall... and, used to being connected to his emotions as I was, I found myself feeling rather dismayed.

"You will regret touching her," Erik said, almost conversationally.

The Erlking ignored him and continued to... well... '_explore'_ seems like an improper word, but it is the only one that really suits. I felt intruded upon on many levels. I could sense his hands on my waist, his gaze appraising me. I could _feel him in my mind... _lazily prodding around my secret thoughts. The invasion was so unlike Erik's gentle caresses... it slithered like an eel and left black slime in its wake.

"So it would seem you have found your angel, after all, beloved. Tell me, is she everything you imagined?"

As he spoke, the Erlking's hand ran up my throat. It was so many kinds of wrong. _And the smell._ He wore the scent of Death.

Not like a rotting carcass or anything like that. It was rather like... well... have you ever been with someone in their final moments? I was there with Daddy, in the hospital. You just _know _the instant the person has finally passed... there is a noticeable scent that fills the room. The air changes. It's not putrid... but it's death. It's a scent that haunts my memories. And he _reeked _of it.

"I see what you have done... yes, very clever of you, I might add. Bound your souls together. Neither of you can die while the other lives. Ingenious move, really, I wish I had thought of it, myself." As an afterthought, he added, "Not that it would have made much of a difference with me, anyway. Useless things, souls. One becomes much more powerful when one does away with it entirely.

"And that was where we just could not agree, could we, beloved? I _tried _to give you power. I tried to give you _everything_. But you would have none of it!" His icy hand had grown tight on my throat and I started seeing black spots. "You rejected it! You rejected _me_! And for what? _This_ little bird?" He was sneering now, and shaking me. "This little bird... a weak child who can understand _nothing _of the passions and obsessions of my chosen heir. You have thrown everything away... for this... _love_. Well, beloved, tell me... was she worth it? Knowing I have replaced you... do you regret giving up the world for this inconsequential human who will not even love you back?"

"Let her go," Erik demanded quietly.

"I _do _love you," I rasped out, at the same time. Because it was true... and because I hadn't told him yet. Because, inevitable or not, it was true now and I wouldn't change it. I figured he already knew... he _had_ to have, right? But his eyes had a wild edge to them that I hadn't seen before—glowing and feral in a way that suggested I might have unbalanced him.

"Let her go," he repeated, although his voice was even colder than before.

The Erlking laughed and the jostle made me black out for a second. When I came to, he'd released him throat but had his hand fisted in my hair.

"... price of your desertion..." the Erlking said, continuing some line of conversation I had missed when I blacked out. "Of course, I cannot kill her, you have effectively severed that alternative. But, as I am _sure_ you know, that merely widens my margin for _creativity_."

Yeah, I was crying pretty hard by that time. I'm not ashamed to admit that.

"What shall I do to her, beloved? Shall I burst her organs? Dissolve her bones?"

"P-please!" I sobbed.

The Erlking laughed.

Perhaps you know what happens next. The hero crumples... falls to his knees and pleads for the villain to spare his love. He offers to do anything he wants. He offers himself up as a sacrifice in her stead, if only _he would let her go!_ That's how the movies go, isn't it?

But this is no movie and Erik is no hero. He didn't crumple—not for a second.

Erik went mad.


	43. Chapter 43

_A/N: Well, I know how you guys hate cliffhangers and long waits, so I quilted a couple chapters together into a nice, long one for you. Just one chapter left to go, now. Don't forget to review!_

* * *

**Christine**

Red eyes. That's the first thing I noticed, and what sticks out in my mind the most often. The Erlking, Erik. Red eyes.

I'd seen them on Erik before... the rare and brief instances where he lost all control and let the darkness overtake him. I hadn't seen them since I'd shared my soul with him. But... he _did _say that the Erlking's essence hadn't technically left him, just retreated. So... I guess...

But I had _never _seen Erik like this. To this extent, anyway. He was still the same graceful entity, moving as if he was built for combat. But his eyes looked positively _unhinged_.

In his hand, he wielded his familiar lasso... well... what looked like his Punjab lasso but was very much _on fire_. Erik's hands were bare, yet they did not seem to be burning.

The Erlking must have been as surprised as I was; he shoved me to the ground and just barely dodged the lasso. The end of the rope grazed his cheek, which instantly bubbled with sizzling blisters. His eyes grew wide and he put his hand to his cheek. Moss grew from the wound and covered it.

After the split second shock passed, he gave a feral grin. "Look! It seems you have fina-"

The Erlking was clearly the speech-giving style of villain. But Erik didn't give him the chance. The rope retracted and sailed again in a flash. This time, though, the king was not caught unaware; he blocked it easily and cast the rope to the ground where the heat caused the grass to erupt into a bonfire. He conjured a twister in the palm of his hand and sent it toward the flame, spreading it like... well... like wildfire.

I wasn't an idiot. The second the Erlking released me, I scrambled behind a huge stone and tried to make myself as small as possible. I knew better than to assume I could do _anything at all _to assist Erik in this mess that was clearly over my head, so I made myself stay out of the way. I could worry about Erik, but at the very least, I could give him less reason to worry about _me_.

Good heavens! I _was _in love! How could I have not seen it sooner?

I heard a whimper behind me and turned. It was Sam, who had clearly used the same strategy as I. He was huddled in such a tiny crevice that I hadn't even noticed him. He was sobbing and rocking and looking every bit like you'd picture a terrified first grader to look. Without a second thought, I grabbed him and held him tight. He threw his little arms around me so hard it left me winded for a second. I positioned his head into my neck to shield him from what was going on and rocked him gently. I murmured his name and all sorts of comforting words that meant nothing but soothed him nonetheless. At least, I hope it did. It soothed me, anyway.

As I clung to little Sam, I couldn't help but watch the battle unfolding around us.

This twister had grown larger and had picked up rocks and debris from the ground—I worried what would happen if one of them managed to hit Erik, but every time the whirlwind swooped close, he sidestepped it.

Erik had made no attempt to retrieve the lasso. Instead, he pulled a simple deck of cards from his back pocket—one he occasionally performed magician's tricks for me when we were bored. One by one, he flicked the cards out toward the Erlking. They sailed with far more force than you'd expect with ordinary cards, and as they flew, they transformed... growing sharper, spinier. _Obviously not your grandmother's card trick_. The king blocked most of them... but the shear _number_ of projectiles ensured that at least one or two made it through his defenses, and they caused the occasional scratch and puncture that were almost instantly covered like the wound on his face had been.

All in all, it pretty much just annoyed the fiend more than anything else. He hissed some threat or insult or another and conjured a Zeus-like lightning bolt and hurled it in Erik's direction. Erik moved _just _in time and it hit a tree instead. My heart was in my throat... but Erik didn't seem all that perturbed by his near miss. Actually he looked pleased.

That's when I noticed that the tornado had died. It dawned on me how clever Erik's misdirection could be... distracting the king into abandoning his more damaging magic for displays of power.

Something enraged the Erlking when his lightning bolt missed its target. Perhaps it is when he realized that Erik would not be as easily subdued as he'd counted on. He was trying to intimidate him. If he'd only known how useless it would be. When Erik gets like this... when his eyes turn red and his lips twist... there is no intimidating him. In this state, Erik is lost. I remembered it from his memories, and from that awful day when I took his mask. He cannot be intimidated, cannot be reasoned with, cannot be frightened. _Perhaps_ he can be defeated, but not easily.

But the Erlking was not one to be underestimated, either. Erik's challenge had insulted him in front of his subjects. He was not pleased... and I couldn't begin to fathom all of what he would do to Erik if he got the chance.

He snapped. All hell broke loose.

-0-0-0-0-

Despite my anxiety, there was one thing I could not deny:

Erik was... glorious as he fought.

I know what he'd always claimed about me... but, in those moments, _Erik _was the angel. Not the romantic style angel of paintings and music. The ancient sort of angel... the kind that wielded flaming swords and took out armies in a single breath and had to command people not to be afraid before attempting to deliver any glad tidings of great joy. That is what I pictured as I watched Erik sidestep one obstacle after another, never ceasing in his assault even as lightening and twisters descended in every direction.

Erik and the Erlking were drastically different fighters. While the Erlking tended to favor elaborate displays and brute force, Erik was relentless. It was the difference between a tank and a machine gun, I guess. As the Erlking prepared for each attack, Erik never paused in his assault of glass, spikes, fire... whatever was available to his rage-fueled imagination.

Imagination was possibly Erik's advantage, I realized. The Erlking had a great deal of magic at his disposal—the elements seemed more eager to obey him than Erik—but Erik was resourceful. He'd had all sorts of experience defeating opponents by different means. At one point, he sent a few of his grasshopper explosives flying at the Erlking's feet, unbalancing him long enough for Erik to blow some sort of blinding powder into his eyes. Erik is a brilliant magician, I think... and the line between 'magic' and 'parlor trick' is often blurred.

He took advantage of the king's momentary blindness and hurled a blade—a small hunting knife he'd concealed in his sleeve—into his bicep.

The Erlking laughed, even as a moss covering began to ooze from the wound. Reaching up to flick away the knife, he said, "Is that all you—"

But, before he had a time to finish the sentence—or remove the blade—Erik snapped his fingers and the knife _exploded_, severing the Erlking's arm at the shoulder.

The Erlking howled in pain, and the boulders around him burst all at once. A piece of shrapnel came flying at my head so close I felt it graze my ear. I looked for a better hiding place, but most of the forest was already ablaze and I didn't know where I could escape to quickly with a little kid in tow. A split second later, a burnt tree fell in my exit path, trapping us in.

I screamed in surprise, and Erik paused for a moment. That half-a-second was all the Erlking needed to get the edge on Erik. A tree root emerged from the ground and wrapped around Erik's ankle at the same time a branch grabbed his wrists from behind. Without his hands to brace his fall, he landed face first onto the ground.

_Ouch._ Probably good he didn't have a nose... that would have broken it pretty badly.

The roots and branches forced him up and into a kneeling position—one which, I could tell by his bunched muscles, he was resisting with all his might.

The Erlking nudged his useless arm with the toe of his boot. By now, I'm more or less numb to insanity, so it wouldn't have surprised me if the arm got up and started crawling around, zombie style... but thankfully, for once the universe worked the way it is supposed to and things that are dead and severed stayed dead and severed.

Then again, what he did do with it was probably even more horrific, since it wins the Unbelievably Messed Up Award of the century.

He fed the arm to the wolves. Literally. Like... he whistled and threw it like a bone and watched expressionlessly as a pack of wolves descended on it. They gobbled it up in seconds.

The flesh did something to the wolves. Made them... more vicious... rabid, almost. They foamed and snarled and watched the Erlking with barely restrained eagerness.

The Erlking gestured to Erik, still bound and kneeling but glaring daggers. "There is more, my children. Take it and have your fill."

With the Erlking's blessing, the wolves pounced on Erik. At first I shut my eyes—seriously, would you want to watch that—but then I forced myself to watch. It was morbid, really... but I guess I just didn't want him to feel alone when he suffered.

At first, his visage was nothing more than a silent scream. Like the wolves knocked the air out of him and he couldn't make a sound, but the agony was still plain on his face. His eyes were screwed shut and head tipped back and...

And then he caught his breath.

His initial scream was... bone-crunchingly horrible. Little Sam shrieked and so did a few others, I think. Judging by the reaction... I'm thinking my bond with Erik was the only thing that let me continue to watch what was happening with my faculties still intact.

The wolves yelped and fell back a bit. They started pawing at their heads and rubbing on the ground. I noticed that a lot of them had blood coming out their ears.

Even the Erlking was taken aback. He glanced to the side with an accusing look; I wondered if he was looking for the siren woman. Perhaps he hadn't known about the gift she had given him?

His surprise quickly turned to satisfaction... and it occurred to me with a stomach lurch how sounds of pain pleased and strengthened him. In that way, he vaguely reminded me of that awful queen who was responsible for the words scarred into Erik's body. Only this was worse... because the Erlking faintly glowed as he absorbed the sound. And it was very, very wrong.

But it did not last long. With Erik's next breath, his cry morphed into... something else.

He was singing. _And what a song it was! _It was unlike anything I'd ever heard, in a language I didn't recognize.

And it was beautiful. So, so beautiful.

I had to close my eyes for a minute; my heart wanted to sing with him. When I finally look around, I saw a few others, peeking out of their hiding spots with awestruck expressions. _So I'm not the only one..._

In fact... it seemed that the only one who _didn't_ see the beauty of Erik's song was the Erlking himself. Actually, this was the first time I'd seen anything besides arrogance written across the imp's face. And he looked _scared_. His eyes were wide and mouth open, and he wasn't moving a muscle except for the trembling in his fingers. The glow vanished, and the curling mists that encircled his cloak had died; it was as if his magic had been sapped... or he was too paralyzed with fear to use it.

Without the Erlking's magic holding them in place, Erik easily snapped the branches that bound him. He rolled his neck and shoulders for moment. I couldn't tell if that casual gesture was a deliberate act, but it certainly looked like he was _shaking off_ a massive attack... and the effect was terrifying.

With a lazy flick of his fingers, the wolves' collapsed on the forest floor, their heads snapped backwards and joints at gruesome angles. It was oddly surprising, knowing Erik as I do. He's usually much more merciful to animals. But... they were kind of gnawing on him... so I suppose it's pretty understandable.

Only after the wolves were dispatched did Erik turn his attention to the Erlking. And then he _smiled_.

As the Erlking fell to his knees, Erik approached him with the most malicious grin I think I've ever seen. If ever there was a time to stand and gloat, you would've figured that'd be it. But Erik never said a word... just stalked toward him—smiling with a death's head and singing past lips that didn't move. In one hand, Erik's fingers twisted and spun like a spider's... only instead of webbing, he was knitting together a ball of blue flame.

I recognized that fire. From Erik's memories... I recognized the blue fireball as the kind that had destroyed Erik's face so many years ago. The Erlking had thrown it at him as he left escaped the Palace that night. This one was smaller, not as bright... but still unmistakeable.

The Erlking recognized it, too, and I saw him trying to break the hold Erik's voice had against him.

By the time the flame was the size of tennis ball, it had caught _everyone's_ attention. We waited for Erik to throw it... deliver a killing blow to the Erlking, who was grunting and sweating black slime. Every so often he would attempt to rise or speak, as if he was on the verge of breaking Erik's hold but not _quite_ succeeding.

"My children!" he gasped, at last. The sisters, the animals... they all stared at him in disbelief.

None of them came to his aid.

Erik bore closer, spinning the ball and patiently coaxing it larger and brighter.

"Belov—Erik. Erik, my boy. Please... don't... I can offer you anything... I can..."

The singing stopped... and for that tiny, fractured second, the whole forest was silent. Every person, plant and animal waited to see if the stranger would heed the defeated man's pleas for mercy.

"No," Erik answered... and shoved the burning fireball straight into the Erlking's gaping mouth.

The Erlking gagged and coughed. He began to clutch at his chest and shred his clothes.

The rest of us watched in horrified fascination as his skin shriveled and cracked. Like... instant dehydration. Really gross. The Erlking screamed—roared, really—and touched his skeletal hand to his face. When his hand came away... _his_ _nose came with it_. Just... fell off. Right in his hand.

But it didn't stop there. Next, his lips curled backwards and his cheeks caved in. His bones started to protrude out through pieces of dying skin.

I guess I can stop there with the details. Trust me when I say it was pretty nightmarish and I was glad I wasn't letting Sam see any of it.

Here's the thing, though. When the Erlking had thrown the fire at Erik, he'd done it to kill him. That was the plan... a last ditch effort as Erik attempted to flee. But he hadn't counted on Erik's split soul. Erik survived because... well... his soul wasn't all in one place and you can hardly just take a piece of it, can you? So, Erik lived. He was scarred horribly... but the spell ended eventually.

The Erlking, though... he has no soul. Nothing to bind him to Heaven or Hell or Earth or anything. He just... is. No humanity other than in surface appearance... just a creature. An amalgamation of all things evil, shoved into a humanoid husk.

All that to say—the fireball didn't kill him. It _obliterated_ him. After his tissues dried and broke away, the rest of him exploded into this bubbly black tar, which burst into flame until there was _literally nothing left._

And then it was over.

-0-0-0-

I stayed down in my hiding place until Erik came to get me. I had already been foolish, enough running forward and back without thinking, in the past. I didn't know what awaited us in the near future, but I was determined not to be idiotic. Erik had so much cause to be furious with me as it was. And there was so much... so much going on that I didn't understand. I couldn't suppress the creeping feeling that I would just be in the way.

I should have known better. Should have known _Erik _better.

He found me immediately, without even having to look... but he approached me timidly. Slowly, and with his head down... looking a little like a beaten dog. I stood up rather awkwardly, as Sam wouldn't release me from his death-grip. The boy turned just enough to glimpse Erik before he whimpered and pressed his face back into my neck. For a moment, Erik raised his arm as if he intended to help me with him... but he lowered it with a dejected step backward.

"Sam... come on, little man, it's okay. Don't be afr-"

The gentle, red-headed woman appeared beside me and carefully pried Sam out of my arms.

"Let me look after him," she murmured, and transferred his weight to herself.

Erik looked briefly at the blond siren. "Make him sleep," he said to her. She nodded and the two women left together.

"Are you... do you fear Erik too, now?" he asked me. "You have seen what I am capable of. Do you-"

"NO!" I shouted and practicality launched myself at him. I probably would have bowled the poor guy over, too, if he wasn't so fast. But he caught me easily enough and I felt him exhale against me. The floodgate of shared emotions broke open once again and I could sense his relief. _I _was relieved as well... I had become so used to having him there, inside my mind, that the concept of losing that had been very unsettling.

"No," I repeated, more quietly. "You must never think that. You protected me... you saved us both. You are so wonderful, more than I ever let myself imagine. And I am _so _proud of you, Erik. I'm not afraid of you... I love you."

For a moment, I thought he might cry, but he just nodded jerkily and pressed little trembling kisses to the side of my face. I ran my hands lightly over his back and arms. His shirt was tattered, but the bite wounds underneath were mostly healed already.

Then it hit me. Everything. Just... the intensity of the fear and relief and _everything_ seemed so very overwhelming and I dissolved into this emotional mess. Coming here at all seemed pointless and awful. I didn't mind so much having Erik's soul with me... in fact, I liked it. It felt like it belonged there. And I didn't mind so much the idea of living forever, as long as it was with _him_. And maybe I'd blown the whole 'perpetual death' thing out of proportion—_of_ _course _Erik could protect us. If he could do _this_, he could do anything! And... and what if—

I started to panic, and I was not so much holding Erik as I was clutching at him. My fingers dug into him as I alternated between sobbing and kissing and... and I actually think I may have bit him once. Anyway, he handled the whole thing with grace... though, beyond his hushed words and gentle reassurance, I could sense a surging of masculine triumph and the gleefully repeated words: _I've won!_

Whether he was referring to his recent battle or something else remains unspoken between us.

His arms had locked around me, and I had the impression he was more than willing to stay that way, but I started to hear noises and murmurs—signs that we weren't alone—and felt obligated to pull away. For a moment, he acted like he might resist, but I gave him a silent promise of '_later' _and he relaxed and put his hand on my back instead.

People started appearing... creeping from behind rocks and bushes, looking lost and helpless amongst the remains of the once grand Palace. The fires had died down, but the ground was black and smoking

I watched Erik's profile as he worked his jaw and swallowed. He was thinking the same thing I was thinking. We were responsible for these people. Though he may have been cruel, the Erlking had protected and provided for them. Governed and gave them structure. When he killed their king, Erik had ripped all that away from them.

These were not leaders. Not survivors. If they had been, once, then it had been wiped from their nature centuries ago. They were lost sheep that needed...

They just _needed_.

And, admit it or not, Erik _wanted_ to be needed.

Perhaps that is what prompted Erik to act as he did. To, at least for a moment, drop his 'I have Christine, the rest of the world can hang' mentality and extend his cloak of protection around these people.

A lady, dark skinned and decorated in vines, approached Erik timidly.

"Sir..."

"Erik," he corrected.

"Yes, Erik... what do we do now?"

"Now... we send everyone home."

There were shocked cries from all directions. "What?" and "How could you?"

Erik merely shook his head. I knew that look on his face. There would be no discussion in this; he would not be swayed. Deciding the conversation was resolved, he turned his attention back to me and all but ignored the sudden disorder around us. Despite his eager attempts to force my attention, I couldn't help but watch over his shoulder.

"Mommy?" a little girl gasped. Then she squealed "MOMMY!" and lifted her little hands in the air before winking out of sight.

"Abuelo! Abuelita! I am here!" a boy cried. He sprinted forward and vanished.

Suddenly the air split open with ecstatic cries of "Papa" and "Mama" and "Sister" and "Uncle" as the children each disappeared, scooped up into invisible arms.

"Susan," a man said. He had to be mid-forties, but the way he clutched his cap and ducked his head made him look like a nervous teenager. "Susan, my darling. I thought I'd never see you again." He extended his hand and, for the briefest moment before he disappeared, I swore I saw someone take it.

"Nikolai!" shouted another, boisterously. "Brother! You have not changed a bit! Did you save me that drink you promised?"

"Christine?" Erik whispered in my ear. "Angel, why are you crying?"

I smiled into his neck. "This was a good thing of you to do," I answered.

"The sisters will not be pleased."

"I know. But it's the right thing."

"Do you love me now, my wife?"

"More than anything."

My reassurances inspired more pride in Erik than I think they would in an ordinary man. I mentally kicked myself for not giving him more in the past, and I vowed to rectify that for the rest of my life.

Suddenly we were both jostled out of our little moment.

"Who do'ya think you are?" a burly man said as he gave Erik a hard shove. I noticed he was wearing hospital scrubs and I cringed a little as it dawned on me that this must have been the orderly Erik 'killed' the day he was admitted. I _had _wondered what happened to those people... but I guess it made sense the souls he stole would end up here.

Erik sneered, but the guy continued undeterred. Any momentary pity I possessed for the man evaporated in his own stupidity.

"I gotta good thing goin' on here!" the man wrapped an arm around the bare midriff of one of the king's daughters, who eyed Erik warily. "Where do you get off trying to send me to God-knows-where... and, for what? My dead grandma and the dad I was never good enough for?"

"Stay then," Erik said with a shrug. When he turned away, though, the guy grabbed Erik's shoulder again.

"Listen, buddy—"

Erik caught his wrist and broke it without a flinch. The man fell to the ground, howling. Erik blinked at him, expressionlessly.

"Tell the other men they may choose to stay, as well, if they so wish. Touch me again and I will torture you for eternity."

I squeezed Erik's hand but said nothing. I guess some things never change.

-0-0-0-0-

Little Sam was fast asleep in the siren's arms, when we found him. She was stroking his hair and humming quietly. When she noticed our approach, though, she stopped... you know... so she wouldn't put _me _to sleep. I kind of liked that lady—so sweet and considerate—and I wondered if there would be a way to procure her friendship in the future.

Erik knelt and allowed his hands to hover over the boy's head. A blue mist formed around his forehead and temples, just as it had with Raoul.

Erik concentrated for a moment, and then his body practically deflated as he released a long-held breath. "Thank you," he mouthed as he exhaled.

"He has not been missing long," he explained to me, and then I understood his relief. "A few weeks at most. Loved ones will still be looking for him." He leaned forward again and drew more mist from Sam's head. I tried not to disturb them, but watched silently as the little boy's brow furrowed and relaxed. At last, he gently transferred Sam into his own arms and rose to his feet.

"Mask, please," he ordered, and someone scuttled out from the woodwork and handed it to him. Honestly, I had forgotten he'd lost it... but apparently I was the only one. Everyone else looked like they were breathing easier once he'd replaced it.

Sam slept peacefully on and even curled into Erik a bit as he cradled him close to his chest. It was sweet.

"Wait for me here, love," he told me. "I will return to you soon. I will leave the child where he will be quickly found. There will be... questions... but he will remember nothing of this place. In the end, his parents will be grateful to have him alive. In time... he will heal. They all will."

"And what of us?" asked a young woman—another of the Erlking's daughters, with large eyes and flowers in her hair. Her words were met with murmurs of agreement from the rest. "What of all this?"

I felt a rare pulse of compassion coming from Erik. I could see it, too, in the way his eyes softened just a bit.

"This will heal, too, friends. It always does."


	44. Epilogue Erik

**_Well, this is it, folks. I admit I've been sitting on this chapter a few days because I'm not sure I like it. I hope I didn't go overboard... I just wanted to make sure all my loose ends were tied up. I hope you enjoy. Thanks for reading. And, for those of you who have taken the time to review, I can't thank you enough :)_  
**

**-0-0-0-0-**

**Erik**

Everything heals, eventually, if you give it enough time. Conveniently, time is something I have an inexhaustible supply of.

Rebuilding the flora was simple enough, thanks to the sisters. Their magic can coax even the most stubborn flower to bloom. And the drive to do so had come seemingly naturally to them. They had not needed to be asked... and they appeared to enjoy the work.

I had returned from my mission of delivering that child back to his parents, sore and exhausted and fit to do nothing but curl around my Christine and sleep. The last thing I wanted to do was decide what to do with all the people left behind in the palace.

They had looked so lost as I left... it was overwhelming. I knew I had thrown their entire world into disarray, and I did have the capacity to feel at least a _minute_ amount of remorse over it. Contrary to popular opinion, I am not completely sociopathic—at least, not anymore—and I felt I owed it to them to, at the very least, point them in a general direction before leaving them to their own devices.

How arrogant I had been! How presumptuous! I actually had images of people huddled in burned out caves, starving to death. What a fool! That I believed, but for a moment, that these creatures who had endured millennia would not possess the skills for simple survival. The Erlking may have led and oppressed them, but he was no nursemaid to the helpless. And, indeed, the women possess powers no human—besides myself—can control. My ignorance then astounds me, even still, and I do not know whether to laugh or cry at the memory.

When had returned, the men were already hard at work hauling away dead trees and fallen limbs. I saw a few with axes, salvaging uncharred pieces for firewood. A few hollered orders to the others, leaders forged from necessity.

The women were, perhaps, more impressive, as they turned over handfuls of blackened ground and brought it back to life. I do not believe I had ever seen them so gentle, so focused. I had been vaguely aware that this side of them had existed... I had just never witnessed it before, and certainly not in any concerted effort. The genuine grief the displayed over a bunch of dead weeds and the tenderness they took in reviving them might have been moving, had I given enough energy to dwell on it.

I have an incomplete memory of what happened next. I think some people spoke to me, and I hope my answers were coherent. My attention was primarily focused on finding Christine. I felt the warm glow of her soul—stronger now that she loved me—but I was not content until I had her beside me. I never am. Perhaps that makes me pathetic... weak. But I sensed a mild distress in her that eased when I put my arms around her, so I believe her feelings echo my own.

And so we slept. And, when we woke, we rebuilt.

Establishing a society took considerably more effort on my part. Some days I still wonder why that is. They managed to put an entire ecosystem to rights but could not stop squabbling long enough to arrange any functioning community.

And, further, I still wonder why we would consider any of that _my _problem at all. I had Christine and had more or less forgotten why we came back in the first place, so I was more than content to take her with me to some deserted island somewhere and never be bothered again.

It certainly would not have been the first time I had left a community to fend for itself. I had never felt guilty about it before, and if I am to be honest, I really did not feel guilty about it this time either. I was gruff with those who asked my advice. Told more than a few people where I thought they could stuff their opinions, sneered at the problems they brought to me. Altogether, I made it very clear how their neediness disgusted me. And yet they were relentless. It was, I believe, the first time my presence has been truly desired... even depended upon. Is it possible to be both flattered and repulsed? I cannot pinpoint my emotion in this, but I believe it lied somewhere between the two.

For a time, I was certain Christine would appeal on their behalf, even though I never let her out of my sight so I am certain no one approached her about it. She is compassionate that way. However she had been in an odd sort of mood, disinterested in contradicting and allowing me to take the lead in most matters.

It was bizarre, but not unwelcome—perhaps it was because she was in such an unfamiliar world.

To me, that seemed like all the more reason to leave. I surely would not wish my angel to be uncomfortable for any time.

So as soon as I felt recovered enough to embark on a journey with no specific destination, we packed a small bag of provisions and headed out.

And that is when our plans abruptly changed.

"I don't recognize that guy," Christine had said as we approached the border. Two sisters were fawning over a young man dressed in hunting attire. One was stroking his ears while the other cooed and felt the bicep he was clearly flexing.

Christine was observant; I did not recognize the man either... but I _did _recognize the look on his face. Glazed eyes, besotted countenance... that was the look of enchantment. It did not take long for it to occur to me what those women were trying to do.

"Come no further," I had commanded, mildly surprised to see that they obeyed immediately. "Ladies, I believe you can find something better to do with your time." They pouted but departed without protest. Without their presence, the man's eyes unclouded and he looked understandably disoriented. I told him a herd of elk had just passed by, heading in the opposite direction and that was enough to send him on his way.

I had mused to Christine afterward. "Last time I stopped one of the Erlking's daughters from luring someone here, I had him torn to bits by wolves." She tensed, so I did not elaborate. I had been a child, my heart was in the right place; I have no regrets. "Having the final authority here certainly makes it... simpler."

She had been tentative in asking, but Christine had quietly made it known that she would not reject the idea of staying in the palace, at least until some order was established. The logic was there... for whatever reason, they listened to me even when they disregarded each other. I could keep the inhabitants of the palace in line and, at the same time, protect them from outsiders.

My sense of duty is... underdeveloped. But Christine's is strong, and her soul warms mine. I had deprived these people of protection and leadership... and Christine believed that I might be the one to restore both to them.

And so we stayed.

_For a time_, I had insisted. But then we never left. A different kind of bond is formed through rebuilding. The palace became _home_, the men and women became _neighbors_.

Of course, it has been necessary, on occasion, for me to go out on... well... business... for lack of better word. Nothing as sordid as the sort of business I once engaged in; just ensuring that my people are as safe and comfortable as possible. This and that, nothing more.

At one point, I would have been grateful for the variance in routine. Now, I only count the minutes until I can return. Christine has begun to tease me... calling me a 'homebody'.

The closer Christine and I are in our relationship, the more relaxed the bond becomes, and it allows us much more freedom now. When it is required, I can be gone for days at a time before the pain comes upon me. The bond is satisfied; it knows I would not let anything keep me from her for long.

Christine, strange as it seems, has still shown no real interest in leaving the palace. I would take her anywhere, you see, if she desired it. Or even let her go, though the thought destroys me. I have determined to no longer be the sort of man who keeps a stranglehold over her life. And the bond would ensure I never lost her.

Yet, she says she is content where she is, and I am pleased at this, so I do not bring it up.

It is for the best, I believe. Time passes differently, here. People age differently and seasons change seemingly at whim. Time, therefore, tends to blur as one day bleeds into the next. Perhaps it would distress her to leave only to discover that everyone she knew is either dead or geriatric.

I remember a particular occasion when she wondered aloud about the Chagny fellow. After heated argument (and a more heated reconciliation), I ventured out of the forest to seek him out. I visited him on what I can only assume would be his death bed. A woman sat beside him, patting his hand and speaking gently. I sang to her and she smiled. She called me 'young man'.

Five children, sixteen grandchildren, and seven great-grandchildren. And a also wife who, after sixty-one years of marriage, still held his hand every night and told him about her day.

She never asked for specifics, but when Christine awoke the next morning, I could tell her with all certainty that Raoul Chagny was quite well, indeed.

That was a few years ago. I think. I will have a better idea when I venture out again this afternoon.

Speaking of which... it is nearly time for me to go.

It does not please me to leave Christine for any amount of time, but I have a very special mission today. My old friend, the siren, is leaving.

She and Christine quickly developed a close—if a bit odd—kinship. As you can imagine, companionship can be a tricky thing when verbal communication has an opiate effect. Christine attempted to teach her to read and write, but she attacked it with the enthusiasm of one attending one's own execution. The siren is a beauty, a musician, a hypnotist—a scholar, she is not. For the most part, they made use of some rudimentary hand gestures, but Christine did the majority of the talking.

Telling stories, more specifically.

Christine knows a great many stories, it would seem. A remnant of time spent with her father, I believe, as well as her love of books. She told my siren friend all sorts of tales from every era.

Including one interesting one about beautiful maidens with voices so enchanting that a man had to tie himself to the mast of a ship to avoid being captivated by them.

Of course, I had always dismissed it as a tale and nothing more. However my good friend was utterly convinced. So much so that she pleaded that I allow her a journey in search of these beings.

Likely nothing with come of it... but very little surprises me these days, and if there is a chance that creatures exist who might understand her uniqueness, I would not dream of denying her that.

And yet, while the emotion is somewhat unfamiliar to me, I believe that I will... _miss_ her. Yes, that is what it must be. I must remember to ask Christine later. She knows about these things.

I would ask her now, of course. But she is home with our son.

Ah, children. And unexpected joy. I never thought I would be that sort of man... and yet I find family life most agreeable.

When we finally did decide to stay and lead the people here, the first rule I had instituted was that no more children would be taken. In fact, no outsider shall come into the palace without my express permission.

It did not take long, then, for the sisters to begin to complain.

"It is too quiet!"

I ignored them.

"You are cruel!"

I shrugged.

"What shall we do without the little ones to play with?"

I told them I did not care.

"We must have children... the forest seems dead without them!"

I had... begrudgingly agreed. But still I refused to let them start raiding campsites.

"We cannot lure them here and you will not let us leave to find them! Whatever shall we do?"

In a fit of exasperation, I helpfully pointed out that there are men in the palace, and women in the palace, and perhaps they might find a solution, themselves.

Apparently, that blessing was all they required. The men here smile more often.

Initially Christine and I worried what the potential 'baby boom' might do to our little community. It is said that one in every two hundred men are descended from Genghis Khan, no? It stands to reason that allowing the unrestrained breeding of potentially immortal half-elves might not have been the most responsible command decision, on my part.

And yet, when the time came, it turned out to be less of an issue than it could have been. For a small one to be born here is a rare thing. Precious few of the sisters have thrived with motherhood. Of course a certain redhead comes to mind, as she has borne four of her own small ones and still takes in any stragglers who come her way. The others, though...

Well, these elves do not form the same kind of familial attachments that humans do. They are playful... childlike, in some ways... and rarely have the inclination to persevere once the novelty has worn off. The fact that the novelties are living creatures as well as flesh and blood relation is irrelevant.

Take, for example, that spirited little dancer over there by the river. Do you see her? I am sure I have mentioned her before. She is a prime example. A mere twelve minutes into motherhood, when she spotted her chosen consort dancing in the meadow with another, she flitted away... leaving the infant still squalling in the grass.

I took him home, and that is how my son Samson came to be. If the girl even remembers that he was once hers, she has never indicated it.

Christine welcomed Samson with open arms and much gratitude. She, too, had caught the 'baby bug' once the first few children were born, and it was with heavy hearts that we decided not to have children of our own. Christine and I cannot die, because we are bound to each other... yet there was no such guarantee with any offspring of ours. Perhaps all might be well within the forest, but should the child ever choose to leave, he would surely grow old and die eventually It nearly crushed Christine, but even she would not risk the agony of knowing that we would bury every child we brought into the world.

He is a beautiful boy, my Samson. All the children here are. They are bright and pixieish, but with ears that are slightly more rounded and temperaments that are slightly more gentle. The energy and playfulness of their mothers tempered by the more compassionate spirits of their human halves. They love nature and beauty and excitement.

Today will be my boy's first trip outside the palace. He has expressed an inquisitiveness about the world outside the forest, and as he approaches adulthood (a fact he reminds me of incessantly) I have deemed him old enough to begin accompanying me on these outings.

You see, children are not permitted to leave. I have decreed it, and I shall not break my own law. We stand too much to lose should their mischievousness run unrestrained. They remain here where they belong, protected and disciplined, until they can care for themselves.

Perhaps my rules may seem heavy-handed, but elves are tricky creatures, and one must be absolutely explicit with them, lest they twist your words. Never has anyone here disobeyed my command outright. I have never raised a hand—or even my voice—toward these people, and yet my words are heeded unquestioningly.

However, they are masterful in obeying the letter of the law and not the spirit. All those cautionary tales you hear about... about people making wishes to magical creatures and then enduring unexpected consequences... and for to no comprehensible end? Yes, those are my people.

Say a woman wishes to be attractive and suddenly finds herself turned, literally, magnetic. And you want to say, 'Who gains from this? What was the point?' and the truth is: no one and there is no point. Just one of the Erlking's children amusing herself by toying with lesser beings.

It is ridiculous and frustrating and naturally you can understand my specificity and forgive my inflexibility.

Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, children. Troublemakers, but innocent ones. We are very protective of them.

Our other son, Silas, came to us only three nights ago. His mother fell in love with an elf from another realm and wished to run away with him. As I spoke to her, I commented on the male at the palace boundary and the toddler he had perched on his shoulders.

"You are no prisoner. If you wish to leave, I will grant you my permission. However, the small one must remain."

Was it cruel to separate a mother and child? Perhaps... and yet I cannot find myself to regret it. If it had been truly important, she would have resisted. Yet, when I told her I would not allow her toddler to leave the palace, she placed him at my feet and returned to her lover, never once looking back.

The child, too, was indifferent to any perceived abandonment. Occasionally I wonder if this situation was not new to him. I knelt down beside him and he took my hand.

"What are you called, little one?" I asked him.

"Silas, my father," he answered. The unprompted title was as alarming as it was endearing, as was his follow up question, "Do I meet my new mother, now?"

After a brief (and useless) investigation to find a human father who would claim him, I took him home to meet his new mother. Simple as that—we have ourselves another son.

It is for Silas that Christine has decided to remain in the forest, today. Her absence pains me, but as I left I heard her sweet voice singing a lullaby—she is so _contented _here that my selfishness shames me—and I would not beg for her company.

Samson was pleased as any. For some inexplicable reason, the boy _likes _me... and absorbs my attention with joy. I have promised that, once we see our friend safely to the sea-port, I will take him for a bit of sightseeing. Perhaps Christine would enjoy some chocolates. A toy for Silas might be in order as well. I want him to like me, too.

We never did find a concrete end to Christine and my potential immortality which, if you remember, was the quest that led us back to the palace in the first place.

When the Erlking was destroyed, all his knowledge of bonds and soul sharing perished with him. All we had gleaned from him was what we already knew... that our souls were tied and as long as one of us lived, so would the other. Theoretically, that means if we were both to die at the same time, that would be that. However, we have found ourselves uninterested in exploring that option. Perhaps, someday. But, for now, we rather like the idea of living.

And—I cannot speak for Christine, of course—but I have found that I also rather enjoy carrying a piece of my angel around close to my heart.

And one certainly cannot deny the romanticism, there. After all... how many people can _truly _mean the words 'Happily Ever After'?

**The End**


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